Sense of Right
by MintSauce
Summary: Stiles moved away from Beacon Hills when he worked out he wasn't wanted. He has a new Pack, a new family, he finally belongs. So why is it that returning to Beacon Hills again after nine years just messes with everything he had thought he'd set in stone?
1. Chapter 1

**Right, so this is my first time attempting to write a Sterek fic and I don't know how it's going to turn out and I know I have stuff to focus on with Shameless, but I just can't get Teen Wolf out my head. Please R&R and tell me what you think. . . even if it's just to tell me to stick to Shameless :D enjoy. . . **

Stiles tried to wipe the memory out of his head. Normally a person would have given up trying by then, it had been nine years and he had essentially moved on, but the memory still haunted him. He was twenty five, he wasn't the hyperactive teen anymore who everyone thought had a screw loose upstairs or something. He wasn't that person anymore. . . or at least he wasn't the majority of the time. He'd admit that he still babbled when he got nervous.

The only problem that he had was that he couldn't help but remember that moment when he had felt like his world was falling from underneath his feet at the most inconvenient times. As in, when he was in bed with someone sort of inconvenient time, or in the middle of an important meeting sort of inconvenient time. You know, just one of those times that really wasn't a good moment to zone out and think of something completely off topic and irrelevant. And more to the point, something painful.

Because that memory was painful, it was more painful that Stiles would ever admit. Even though he had admitted it, several times in fact. His new family, his new Pack had heard all about it. They'd even voiced their displeasure and anger at what had been said. Then again, he supposed that was the point, he couldn't really say _new_ if he'd never had an old in the first place. He hadn't ever really been able to say he'd had a family since his mum had died, because really, having just his Dad didn't qualify as a family. Not in his mind anyway. And as had been said to him in probably the harshest way, he didn't have a Pack either.

"_You think you're something to them, to any of them, but you're not, you're just a stupid little human that's allowed to stick around."_

Stiles shook himself out of his own head before he crashed the car he was driving. It was weird being in the silence, weird being on his own because he hadn't been alone like this for years. Not for about eight and a half of them in fact. His life had become so full, full of people, full of energy, full of life. It was amazing, it was _Pack_.

At the beginning he'd used to think that the moments when he was alone were a luxury, moments when he just had time to stop and think, moments like those. But he didn't think that anymore. The silence weighed down on him, threatened to choke him under its weight and he'd futilely attempted to drown out the silence with white noise, with meaningless sounds. He had the radio cranked so high he thought his eardrums were about to burst, but it was still too quiet. He didn't know how that made sense.

His only saving thought was that he was almost five hours into his six hour drive back to Beacon Hills. It was his Dad's birthday and he felt bad about making him come up to visit all the time so that was exactly why he'd agreed to come down this time. Not that the fact he had willingly agreed made him feel any better. He felt sick and he supposed that was probably because he hadn't been back to Beacon Hills even once since he'd left.

Right on cue the music he was listening to cut off and his cell phone started ringing through the radio. He missed his jeep a little admittedly, but he loved his new car. All the fancy little gadgets and add-ons to it made him smile, brought out the teenager in him again that was so easily amused. It was things like the built in speaker phone that were the most useful though.

"Hey," he said as he picked up, blindly reaching for his phone where it was sitting on the passenger seat.

"Hiya," one of his Packmates and honestly his new – had been for eight years now so maybe it's not really all that new of an appointment – best friend Maggie was the one on the other end of the line, but he could hear others in the background. He honestly wasn't all that surprised. "Just checking you haven't freaked out and turned around yet," she said and the laughter was evident in her voice.

He pulled a face at the radio, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied indignantly, "I'm perfectly fine."

Maggie laughed and in his mind's eye he could see her head tipping back and her blue eyes shining. "Liar," she chuckled, "You sound like you're about to have a breakdown."

"Or shit a brick," someone put in, their voice loud enough that they must have been right next to Maggie. If Stiles had to hazard a guess, he'd say it had been Lucas.

"Hit him for me," Stiles said, smiling, that smile turning into a grin when he heard Lucas yelp, "And I'm fine, seriously, it's about time I went back and I'll just deal with it, it's not like anything particularly bad's going to happen, I mean I probably won't even leave the house. I'll just spend time with my Dad you know, so it's not even going to be anything close to a big deal. I'm fine, because this is going to be fine."

"If it's going to be fine sweetie you need to breathe," Maggie said and the sympathy in her voice was practically overwhelming.

Stiles gripped the steering wheel a little harder than was necessary, feeling the wolf inside of him start to bubble up in response to his nerves. He hated that just the simple act of thinking about returning to Beacon Hills had him on edge. And it wasn't just that he was going back, it was that he was going back a werewolf. He'd accepted the bite not long after he'd left and met Maggie and her Pack. He'd wanted to be included, he'd wanted a family, a Pack and as far as he was concerned that meant he had to be a werewolf. They'd told him afterwards that they would have accepted him and loved him just as much had he been human, they even said he'd probably still be the leading Beta, but Stiles couldn't help having his doubts.

"It'll be fine," he repeated for his own benefit and inside of his chest his wolf was whining, wanting the closeness of its Pack. He knew he shouldn't really be venturing into Derek's territory without ringing first, but he was only staying for two weeks and he figured that if he stayed in town, that was neutral ground and they probably wouldn't even notice.

"You want us to swing by on our way back home?" his Alpha, Rory asked, which let him know that Maggie had put him on speaker in the car. He didn't mind.

They were all driving down to visit another Pack for the a week while Stiles was away, figuring they might as well kill two birds with one stone. They were only a small Pack, with there just being fourteen of them, but Stiles had always thought it was a good number. Some Packs they'd crossed paths with over the years had been massive, almost _too_ big and Stiles thought it removed some of the closeness, he thought it made it feel less like family.

And his Pack was family. They were all outcasts and misfits, some had been kicked out from other Packs, others had been bitten or had just willingly switched. But it worked. It definitely worked.

"Please," Stiles said and it would have been an admittance, it would have been a sign of weakness if this hadn't been his _Pack_. But it wasn't. It wasn't embarrassing to admit he needed them, not at all, because this was what they were there for. They were there to love him, to accept him, to cherish him, just like he was there to do the same for each and every one of them.

"You can text us directions later on in the week," Rory said and Stiles knew he was smiling, because Rory was always smiling. He was so unlike Derek that it was unreal. He was so different that it made Stiles have to pause to catch his breath. Rory was sweet and kind and gentle, he loved each and every one of them unashamedly. He had no problems showing affection or speaking it and he made it clear he would defend each of them to the death.

"I already have the address written down actually," Lucy, their Alpha Female, quite literally the other half of Rory's soul put in. She was tiny, tiny voice and tiny body, but she could be scary when she wanted to be and Stiles never ever wanted to take her on in a fight. She was sweet and kind, but ferocious. She kept the rowdier ones of them in line with nothing but a glare and yet they all loved her even while she was yelling at them.

She was the closest thing Stiles had ever had to a mother, which was stupid considering she was only about ten years older than him.

They talked about pointless things after that and sometimes Stiles wasn't even the one that was spoken to. Sometimes it was just noise, so many conversations going on at once that he couldn't tell who was who over the phone. And yet, he wasn't on the edge of it. Even being miles away, even while on the phone and not actually with them, he was included. It was like he was there. He laughed along with the jokes that were made, pulled faces at some comments and felt his heart ache at others. This was Pack. This was family. This was perfection.

There was so much noise that it was impossible for it to be silent and it was impossible for Stiles to even think about feeling nervous anymore, because he had his Pack to focus on. And he knew, he knew that this was why they were staying on the line. He knew that this was their way of helping him, of comforting him even if they couldn't do so in the usual way – puppy piles that ended up turning into a human version of a mind puzzle as they all tried to work out which limbs belonged to who and how the hell they were going to get untangled.

"Guys I have to go," he said regretfully as he pulled into his Dad's driveway, his old driveway, but he hadn't thought of this place as home in a long time. He hadn't even registered the moment that he'd pulled into Beacon Hills, he'd just driven, focussed on the Pack.

He saw his Dad at the door, walking out to greet him and he knew that he could hear the noise that was the Pack collectively groaning and trying to shout encouragement and goodbyes at him all at once. Stiles laughed, his head hitting the headrest of his seat as he took off his sunglasses and put them on the passenger seat. He waved at his Dad, smiling as he leant against his open window.

In the end, Maggie had to take him off speaker so that he could make any sense of what was going on. "I'll talk to you later Stiles," she said and he could still hear people shouting things in the background, "Be safe and don't forget to breathe."

He laughed at the same time as he rolled his eyes. "I won't," he promised, "Have fun stuck in the car for a few more hours."

He just knew that she was pulling a face. "Say Happy Birthday to your Dad from all of us by the way," Maggie said and Stiles could feel his Dad's happiness practically radiating out of him. He could smell it. His Dad loved the Pack as much as he did, even if he didn't know that that was what they were. He loved that Stiles had a family, that he was included now in something. That and it was impossible not to love Maggie, she was infectious.

"Thanks Mags," the Sheriff said and Stiles groaned inwardly because all of a sudden everyone was shouting again to try and say Happy Birthday to his Dad personally. Out loud though, he just laughed and five minutes later managed to hang up at the phone.

Looking at his Dad, he grinned despite the nervousness bubbling up inside of him again. "Hi," he breathed out finally and the look of uncontained joy was enough to make Stiles think that maybe he'd made the right decision coming back here after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles felt a little bit calmer when he was settled into his old living room, having gone through an old, normal routine of cooking for his Dad and talking about useless crap while they wolfed it down – no pun intended with saying wolfed right there, his Dad didn't know and Stiles wasn't planning on letting him know that he could turn furry at will. It was strange being back and not being hyperactive though. He almost felt like he should be, like that would make everything sit a little better with him. But he wasn't that Stiles anymore. He didn't think he even knew how to _be_ that Stiles.

And it was all going fine, Stiles hadn't even come close to freaking out once, until his Dad decided to drop a little – or not so little – bombshell on him. "So um. . . what would you do if I told you I was seeing Melissa McCall?" he asked so casually it practically _hurt_.

Now, Stiles wasn't surprised that his Dad was dating someone, because _hello_, the sheriff was related to him and that therefore made him epic and a great catch; that and Stiles could smell another scent all over this house, but it was just that he hadn't thought for a million years that it would be Melissa McCall. In fact, he was that surprised that he spat drink all over the carpet, falling back into his old persona a little bit actually.

He blinked stupidly at his Dad while he wiped at his mouth and he knew the expression on his face was probably a little bit stupid looking. He should have seen this coming. He shouldn't have been surprised. After all, he had been able to smell his dad's nervousness from the minute he'd stepped into the house. He just hadn't thought it would have anything to do with his Dad's dating life.

And then of course, he started eternally panicking. Because if his Dad was dating Melissa, this meant that he was liable to run into Scott. It meant that chances were, he wasn't going to be able to avoid him for two weeks. And sure, Stiles felt a little bad about wanting to avoid Scott, they had after all been best friends once, but it had been ages. Also, if you added in the fact that Stiles had ignored all of Scott's texts and calls for years, then it was going to be an awkward reunion to say the least.

He chewed at his bottom lip and cast his Dad another glance, because he couldn't help but wonder if Scott had told his mum yet about being a werewolf. Stiles had always thought that Scott had been liable to do that; and if Melissa knew, chances were his Dad would. Except his Dad was giving nothing away.

"R-Really?" he asked, coughing a little and banging a fist on his chest, "T-That's great Dad."

And he meant it, he really did, because he could tell that his Dad was happy. He just hated the fact that it didn't sound like he meant it. It sounded like he was about to hyperventilate actually, like the words were being forced out of him.

Stiles stopped chewing his mouth and dug his fingernails into his palms to make sure he kept calm. "And I do mean it," he said, making sure to smile, "I'm happy for you, Mrs McCall's a great gal, I'm just sort of nervous about having to face Scott, was kind of hoping I could avoid him for two weeks you know."

His Dad nodded and gave him a sympathetic pat on the knee and his wolf _almost_ considered that a touch from a Pack member. It calmed a little because of it, but not completely. Not enough. "I understand son," he said, but Stiles heard the skip in his Dad's heartbeat that said even the Sheriff didn't believe that, "And I haven't told either of them you're coming, I think it's going to be a surprise, but Melissa's cooking me a birthday dinner tonight, I was hoping you'd come." His Dad smiled at him nervously, "I haven't heard yet if Scott's going to be there, but he could be."

"Of course I'll be there," Stiles said instantly, because that wasn't even up for debate, "Didn't drive all this way for nothing, did I?" He laughed, but it sounded fake even to his own ears. "This does mean I'm going to have to get her some flowers though, try and butter her up so maybe she won't smack me one for ditching her son," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"As far as I'm aware she blames you both equally," the Sheriff told him and his heart didn't stutter at all, so this time Stiles' smile was completely genuine.

He stood up and rubbed his hands on his jeans. "How about I meet you there?" he asked, "I want to visit mum anyway and if I'm getting flowers then I could be a while."

His Dad rose when he did and pulled him into a hug almost immediately. Stiles hugged him back automatically, but felt guilty because he could both feel from the hug and smell how much it meant to his Dad that he'd finally come back here. Stiles knew it had been too long, if only for the reason that he should have been back to visit his mum's grave at the very least; but he just hadn't been able to make himself.

If he was being honest, he'd only come this time because Maggie had threatened to put wolfsbane in his underwear drawer if he didn't.

"You need me to get anything else?" he asked when they pulled apart, feeling a little calmer now that his Dad's scent clung to him. It was familiar and comforting, it reminded him of his childhood, of happy memories. It reminded him of his mother as well.

His Dad shook his head. "Thought you might want to take the Baby out actually," he said, digging around in his pocket and holding out a pair of keys, "Had her fixed up a little for when you came back, thought you might have missed her."

Stiles grinned genuinely as his fingers curled around the familiar keys. He did a little dance and hugged his Dad again, already feeling more hyperactive than he had done in a long time. Becoming a werewolf hadn't quite cured his ADHD, but it had certainly helped it out a lot.

There was nothing that quite compared to the feeling of sliding in behind the wheel of his old jeep and he just sat there for a while, running his hands over the steering wheel lovingly. He took a deep breath through his nose, drawing in the scent of his Dad, of his human self that still lingered there. There was a hint of Scott's scent as well and something else so incredibly tantalising that he didn't have a name for it. He smiled to himself and cranked up the radio enough to fill the silence that would no doubt start pounding in his head.

The CD in the player still flicked on halfway through a song and Stiles laughed under his breath at his old music taste. Laughed at how it hadn't changed in the slightest. He could remember listening to this CD with Scott, the other boy grumbling at his taste in music. That didn't happen in the Pack, he had actually been voted as having the best taste in music. But then again, a lot of them had strange tastes so that wasn't saying much.

Yelling more than singing along to Snow Patrol, he took the familiar roads into town, not quite sure how he felt about the fact that each turning was practically instinct. He supposed that was what you got when you grew up in a place though.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Aww that's sweet, you actually think you're a part of this Pack, don't you?" she asked, laughing as her lips stretched into a horrible sort of smile, "Sweetie, you're not, you're like a pet or something, a little trophy human."_

Stiles snarled into the rear view mirror as the memory surged through his mind, but he didn't let himself lose too much control. He didn't want to hurt his baby by extending any claws or doing any sort of damage. Breathing in deep he parked the jeep in the middle of town as close as he could get to the little florist. It was a Saturday, so it was pretty busy, but he was keeping his fingers crossed that he wouldn't run into anybody he knew, or at least anybody he didn't want to run into.

He sucked on his lower lip as he jumped out of the Jeep and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck like had become a habit. He may have been a whole lot less hyperactive, but he had developed new little ticks that he didn't without even thinking about. He'd developed even more recently, but that came from trying to quit smoking. He'd only started out of stress and since others in the Pack had smoked as well, had never actually stopped. They'd all made a New Year's resolution to quit though, all together. He was starting to think these two weeks were going to revert him back to as bad as he had been though.

It didn't even matter that Maggie would kick his ass.

The woman in the florist didn't recognise him, but she smiled at him like he was her best friend and he could smell that it was a genuine sort of kindness, so for some reason that made him relax a little. He smiled back and chatted to her as she arranged two bouquets of flowers especially for him. All of the ones for his mother's grave were yellow, the colour of the sunshine, his mother's favourite, but he just told the woman to put together something nice for Mrs McCall since he didn't know what she liked exactly.

It was expensive, but that didn't bother him so much anymore. They had Pack money, a lot of it. At first he'd complained that he shouldn't have the right to spend it, but Maggie had slapped him upside the head for thinking that. He was Pack, what was theirs was his and vice versa. Within reason of course. And it wasn't like Stiles didn't contribute to the Pack money, but being a teacher didn't really pay amazingly.

It did mean he got kick ass holiday time though.

Stiles loved the summer, especially summer with the Pack, but he would have loved it regardless of where he was because it was his mother's favourite time of year. He paid for the flowers and thanked the woman, trying not to laugh at the fact he'd only just realised her name was Flora – _fucking ironic much? _– and then headed back out into the sunshine.

It never failed to amuse him that being a werewolf had solved his little problem of sunburn, because his skin healed almost instantly, so although he never tanned, he also didn't need to wear any suncream. It was heaven. He ran his fingers lovingly over the hood of his jeep and put the flowers in the passenger seat, walking back around to the other side when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt collar.

His first instinct was to panic, thinking maybe it was Scott or Derek, but after taking a deep breath he realised from the scent that it wasn't anybody he knew. Unfortunately, he only realised that after he'd been tossed into a nearby alley. He rolled back onto his feet, scowling because he'd mucked up his shirt a little and he was going to have to change it before he went over to the McCalls'. He bared his fangs at the guy in front of him, who was so obviously a werewolf judging by the fact his mouth was full of fangs and his scent was pretty damn obvious.

Stiles only just noted that the guy also smelt of Derek and Scott, of people he used to know before the guy jumped at him. It was almost too easy to spin out of the way, grabbing the guy by the throat as he span past and slamming him into the alley wall. The air rushed out of the guy's lungs and Stiles couldn't help but laugh, he'd never felt anything but powerless when in Beacon Hills, it was a weird and not unwelcome feeling.

"Now that wasn't very nice was it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side slightly, knowing his words were a little jumbled since he was speaking through his fangs, but the words were clear enough. "There was me minding my own business and now here's you being a really unsociable little pup."

It felt weird being aggressive so far from his Pack and so close to another wolf's territory that he was practically in it. His wolf was whining a low warning, getting antsy with all the nerves collecting in the pit of Stiles' stomach.

"You're on our territory, I'm allowed to warn you off," the werewolf replied, the words wheezed out a little because of the grip that Stiles had on his throat.

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, because you're doing such a good job of that," he replied, "And if you weren't such an asshat you'd know that this right here, in town, this is mutual ground, it's nobody's territory. If I stepped in the woods, you'd be free to eat my face or whatever, but right now, you don't have that right."

And with that he tossed the guy away like a rag doll, pleased for the torturous training that Lucy had put the entire Pack through. They were only a small Pack, they had to be able to defend themselves. Of course at the time it had been more like, _"What the hell, why are you making us run!"_ rather than, _"Thanks Luce, this will come in handy!"_ Stiles would just drop her a text later or something, although actually, maybe not since she'd only freak out and probably make Rory drive them straight here.

He got back into his jeep and pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking his messages. He had several texts of encouragement and support from some of the other Pack members, but the one he was really looking for was from Maggie. He'd texted her to tell her about his Dad's new relationship status.

_**Omg seriously! Do you know her? What's she like? Are you going to meet her? **_

And in the space of five minutes after that text had been sent and he'd looked at it, she'd already sent a follow up text simply saying: _**STILES!**_

Maggie could be impatient at times.

_**Yh I knw her, she's Scott's Mum. Gonna b awkwrd cuz I hav 2 go 2 dinner there now. I'm taking flowrs.**_

He'd only just put the key into the ignition by the time he got a text back.

_**Jesus how many times do I have to tell you? Use grammar! And fuck, seriously? Are you going to be alright going to dinner? Don't even think about skipping, your Dad will be heartbroken, but don't freak out or anything. **_

He winced at the text and before he even managed to get out a reply, another came through. He'd sort of been expecting it would though, because Maggie always did that.

_**And remember to breathe. . . **_

He smirked and typed out a simple text saying he promised to do that and that it would be fine before pulling out of the parking space and heading in the familiar direction of Scott's house. He'd only made him and his Dad a sandwich earlier and what with a wolf's metabolism and everything he was starving again, but he would still be a little bit early if he went over straight away, so he made a pit-stop and grabbed a bottle of wine and a coffee to go.

He drank the coffee way too fast and considered for a split second breaking into the wine due to his minor panic attack that he was having the closer he got to Scott's house. Even though he seriously doubted it was Scott's house anymore. In the end he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts without even looking, knowing that it was his Pack phone – _yes, yes he did have a Pack phone as well as a normal phone –_ and hit call randomly. It didn't even matter who it was and not only because they were all together anyway.

"Hey dude, what's up?"

Stiles exhaled loudly at the sound of Lee's voice, only feeling a little bit guilty because he knew that Lee would have been driving his motorcycle and so would have had to pull over to answer his phone. He then launched into full on freak out mode, talking at a thousand miles an hour for a good ten minutes before he finally drew breath. On the other end of the line, Lee chuckled low in his throat and told Stiles to breathe, which seemed to be the general opinion on what he should be doing.

After that they just talked about nothing in particular, about the drive Lee was still taking about random memories or members of the Pack. It was calming, more so than it probably should have been, but Stiles didn't even think twice about it anymore.

"Thanks," he muttered after he said that he had to go because he was close to being late for the dinner, "Sorry for freaking out on you a bit there."

"No problem," Lee replied sincerely, "Call me when the dinner's over yeah, let me know how it goes. Call me during if you need to."

Stiles smiled, "Will do. Stay safe."

"You too."

They always seemed to be saying that to each other. _Stay safe_. He couldn't remember when they'd started to do that as a usual method of bidding goodbye. It felt like something completely logical though with all this space in between him and his Pack. Taking a deep breath he started up the jeep again, sort of wishing he was in his new car so that he could make some sort of impression before he decided that that was a stupid thing to think.

He thought it was ironic that Highway to Hell was playing when he started driving again.


	4. Chapter 4

He felt like he was about to have a panic attack and Stiles hadn't had one of those for years. Not since he'd joined a Pack, not since he'd left Beacon Hills. He hadn't even gotten close to having one. In fact, the last time he'd had one had been the day he'd left Beacon Hills.

"_He's my mate, this is my Pack and I think we both know you don't really belong here, don't we?"_

He tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck, digging his fingers into the palms of his hand, the sharp pain distracting him from his own thoughts. He was hating how often he was having to do this. A part of him wanted to take Rory's advice and just take the bull by the horns. Rory had suggested when he'd first voiced the idea of going back to Beacon Hills that maybe if he just confronted the person responsible for that memory, then it wouldn't bother him so much.

Except, that would mean facing Derek and Stiles really wasn't ready for that.

He took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of fresh air, woodland, Scott, Alison, Mrs McCall and his Dad. He focussed on that last scent, used it to calm himself down and as a last minute idea, grabbed the bag he'd cleverly put in the back of his jeep and changed his shirt until he was wearing Rory's. He had numerous items of clothing in his suitcase that weren't his and if he was being honest that had been intentional. Just being able to smell his own Pack on himself was enough to calm him down, to keep him in check. And it wasn't like it wasn't a habit they all didn't have anyway. They all shared each other's clothes. The number of times Stiles had seen one of the girls using his shirt as something to sleep in, or someone wearing his jacket out was unreal. But the thing was, it didn't even matter. They all shared it, there wasn't even a need to ask. Even though if Stiles wanted a particular piece of clothing it would be given back instantly. That was just the way the Pack worked.

A part of him wondered if Derek's Pack was like that. He'd never got to find out last time he was in Beacon Hills and probably never would know. He couldn't imagine them doing that though.

He could tell just from the scents that Scott and Alison were here and someone else as well that he didn't recognise. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, actually enjoying that he could do that. He'd kept it as a buzz cut for years, but at Maggie's insistence had grown it out and he had to admit that it did actually look pretty good. It was a weird feeling though, but he supposed at least this way he had more hair on his head than he did on his face when he wolfed out. He thought that was a good thing to be able to say if he was being honest.

He felt stupid when he knocked on the door, the memories threatening to choke him, but he held steady and didn't run. No matter how much he wanted to. Melissa McCall was all smiles when she opened the door and then her eyes widened dramatically and she gasped. "Oh my God, Stiles Stilinski, am I imagining things?"

Stiles blushed and ducked his head, slowly shaking it as he peaked at her through his lashes. He didn't know why the hell he had been so nervous though when she grabbed him into a hug, her scent wrapping around him until it practically had him in a chokehold. It helped that he could smell his Dad on her too.

He did have a bit of an awkward time not crushing the flowers though when she hugged him.

He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him and he shifted back a little awkwardly when she let him go, holding the flowers and the wine out at the same time, almost like they were a shield or something.

Melissa smiled, "Aww honey, they're beautiful thank you." She took them from him and he could smell her happiness and her relief and he was surprised because there was no trace of any negative emotions in the air around her. The air that was wafting through from the other room was another matter entirely though.

"Grandma, who's dat?"

Stiles jumped at the sight of a little girl when she appeared in the doorway he knew led through into the lounge. She was probably no older than three or four and she looked adorable dressed up in a little blue dress. Her dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders and she was honestly the prettiest little thing Stiles had ever seen in his life. She sucked her thumb into his mouth and Stiles was officially gone. He loved kids, adored the one kid they had in the Pack, Callum, although saying that he was eight now and he didn't really like Stiles calling him a kid so much anymore. He was going through a bit of a 'phase' as his mother called it. Stiles still adored him though and pretty much considered them best friends. He was cool Uncle Stiles. It was great.

"This is Stiles sweetie," Melissa told the little girl, "Stiles this is Lexie, Scott and Alison's daughter."

He could tell that just by her scent, but she looked a lot like the both of them as well. More like Alison if he had to be honest, but since she was a girl he had to say that was a good thing. He hoped to god that she'd gotten Alison's common sense as well, because if she'd gotten Scott's then she was screwed.

He crouched down and smiled at her, tilting his head a little bit to the side. "Hey there," he said, keeping his voice low and gentle and pulling a little bit of a face that made her giggle, "I like your dress." And he wasn't even lying. It was adorable.

The thing about kids was that, Stiles loved them. And one of the main reasons that Stiles loved kids so much was that they just seemed to adore him. It was something that came in useful when working in a school, especially since he generally dealt with five and six year olds.

Lexie grinned at him and moved closer, her feet padding on the wooden floor quietly. "You smell funny," she told him, completely unashamedly.

He laughed, he couldn't help it. "Why thank you," he told her, making sure to flash her his best grin, knowing it worked when she reached out and grabbed for his hand.

"You're funny," she told him as she pulled him through into the other room. He just managed to have time to shrug at an amused looking Melissa before he had to turn back around to look where the hell he was going.

He didn't quite know how the hell Scott was going to react to him being near his cub, but it wasn't exactly Stiles fault that she'd grabbed his hand now was it? He didn't think it was possible for anyone to push away a cub that cute, when she smiled she had frickin' _dimples_. DIMPLES! Who could resist dimples?

"Oh my god!"

There was the sound of shattering glass as Alison dropped what she was holding and Stiles' eyes widened just in time for him to be slammed into a wall. And he didn't fight, because he understood. He was a non-Pack wolf standing far too close to a Pack cub. He could have reacted the same, although maybe Stiles would have used his eyes first. Then again, Scott had never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

It also answered his question of whether or not his Dad and Melissa knew considering neither of them looked overly freaked out about the fact that Scott had fully wolfed out. Maybe they looked a little worried about the fact that he was pinning Stiles to a wall, but that really wasn't anything concerning. Stiles could have moved it he'd wanted to.

He knew that Scott just needed some time. He could see his old best friend working it out, drawing in Stiles' scent, tasting it on the back of his tongue and connecting all the dots. And Stiles knows that this isn't his territory, that he should be tilting his neck to the side in a show of submission, but he refuses to do that. He won't submit to anybody from Derek's Pack, never again, not even if it kills him.

Because Stiles may be afraid of facing his past like that, but that doesn't mean he's going to mess up his future.

"Stiles?" Scott asked, looking at Stiles like he'd changed completely when really all that had happened was he had grown his hair out a bit. But then Scott had always been slow on the uptake so he supposed he shouldn't really be surprised.

He stared back into eyes that were ringed slightly with yellow, "Scott?"

He felt almost guilty about the wide grin that split Scott's face practically in two. "Oh my God, you're back! This is amazing! Why didn't you tell me you were coming back? I would have like made a cake or something!"

Stiles raised an eyebrow, "Scott, you can't bake."

He shrugged, "Then Allison would have made a cake or something." Scott was still frowning and if he was being honest, so was Stiles. He knew why Scott was frowning and it was because he was trying to work out why the hell Stiles smelt like wolf. Stiles was just frowning because he was wondering how the hell Scott could still be that much of a dumbass.

"You never answered your phone," Scott said eventually in a small voice that had Stiles' heart breaking just a little. Because he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel guilty about cutting off all contact with Scott, but it had been necessary. He'd had to go cold turkey, nothing from the Pack, or the Beacon Hills Pack at least. If he spoke to Scott he knew that he'd probably have caved and spoken to Allison and then Lydia and Danny and maybe even Jackson and that just would have led to him talking to Derek. Which was a no-no, a _giant_ no-no, because if he had spoken to Derek then in the beginning he would have been screwed. And not even in a good way.

Stiles didn't know what to say, which was a weird thing to think because even when he wasn't as hyper as he used to be, he still always had something to say. But right then, Stiles didn't have a thing. He didn't know how to explain, how to make it better. So he just mumbled an, "I'm sorry dude," and wrapped his arms around Scott's shoulders, pulling him in close.

And thankfully, thankfully Scott didn't even think that was a problem at all. He hugged Stiles back hard enough to crack a rib if Stiles' had still been human and squishy and weak. If he was being honest, he wasn't surprised that Scott hadn't noticed the subtle change in his scent. He probably just thought Stiles had been hanging out with werewolves or something; because apparently it was such an alien and bad idea to everyone in Beacon Hills that Stiles could make a decent werewolf. The only person who'd seen it had been a psychopath, so Stiles wasn't really going to be using that as evidence any time soon. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he'd accepted Peter Hale's offer.

At the end of the day though, Stiles liked things the way they were now. He liked his Pack. He liked what he had going on. He liked being a werewolf. He made a pretty badass werewolf if he said so himself. He'd _earned_ the title as head Beta, of second in command – if you didn't count Lucy that was, but at least he was second in command out of the guys – just by smiling and looking pretty. It hadn't come easy, he'd had to work for it and he was pretty damn proud of himself actually.

He didn't know how long they stood there like that, just hugging, because even though his wolf was getting a little bit antsy about being this close to someone who wasn't Pack, Scott's scent was so familiar it made his teeth ache. Even after almost nine years, it was familiar and he felt like he'd been craving it without even realising that was what he was craving. It was more powerful than the craving for nicotine that he had curling in his stomach all the time now. It was more powerful than the craving for acceptance that he'd had ever since he could remember. It was more powerful than everything, because this was Scott, this was his best friend even if they hadn't really even been friends for years now.

Stiles pressed his face into the side of Scott's neck and breathed in deep, let that scent fill his lungs so that when he left, he'd still be able to remember it. So he'd still be able to taste it on the back of his tongue.

Stiles has more friends now than he had ever imagined he could have. He has his family, his Pack. They're all his friends. But he has others so. He has friends at work, friends he'd made at the local library. He's friends with his neighbours and with people who had known some of his Pack mates once upon a time. Stiles has more friends than he knows what to do with sometimes. But in the end it all boils down to Scott. It all boils down to that one person, the person he couldn't replace even if he wanted to. The person who had been there when his mum died, that had run to Stiles rather than anyone else when his Dad had left. It was that person, it was Scott and even if Stiles had wanted to, he never could have really let Scott go.

It was like they just both clicked back into place, like they were two puzzle pieces that just fit, even if you lost one for a while. They still fit.

Scott smiled at him when they pulled apart and it was that lazy, sort of dopey smile that he'd always had. Scott hadn't changed. Not really. Probably not at all aside from the fact he had a little one running around now. A little one who was so adorable it hurt to look at her.

And then Allison is hugging him and they're eating dinner and talking. And it's like nothing had changed. It's like it hadn't been nine years at all. Lexie is sitting next to Stiles because they're best friends now apparently, which didn't really surprise Stiles at all, but it made Scott's eyes go all wide like he hadn't had even the faintest clue that Stiles could be good with kids. Everyone but his Dad looked surprised – but then he did already know – when Stiles told them that he was a teacher and Scott actually choked on a piece of bread when he asked Stiles what had changed with him since they'd last seen each other and Stiles announced that he was gay. His Dad choked as well, because actually Stiles hadn't even told his Dad that yet. He'd forgotten that he hadn't told his Dad that yet.

"Since when?" Scott asked, his eyes blown wide as Allison pounded him on the back to try and get her husband – yes husband, they got married, Derek was best man apparently – to stop coughing.

Stiles shrugged, not really phased at all by their surprise, because how could they have known? It wasn't like he'd had _any_ dating history when he'd been living in Beacon Hills. "Since forever I guess," he replied, "And before you say anything, yes I had a bit of an obsession with Lydia, but I still prefer guys."

"So you still date women as well?" his Dad asked and he didn't sound like he was hoping Stiles would say yes, not at all, he just looked curious.

Stiles could smell all of their surprise, but there wasn't anything other than that. He didn't smell any disgust, any sadness, nothing. He just smelt surprise and he figured that was pretty much allowed.

"Sometimes," Stiles replied, even though actually he hadn't for a few years. He preferred men, preferred hard muscle to soft curves any day. He of course left out the part where he was sleeping with one of his Pack mates. It wasn't love, they weren't mates, they were good friends that just happened to both be infuriatingly single and therefore slept with each other sometimes. It was just fun, nothing more and nothing less. Neither of them had any problem walking away. Hadn't done in the past. Not when Stiles had got a semi-serious boyfriend, not when Sax had started dating a girl from another Pack.

They were both single again now though and Stiles found himself almost wishing Sax was here. Sex was a good way to relieve the stress built up inside of him. Then again, Stiles wished any one of his Pack were here, just to make him feel safer, calmer, more at home.

"Well I didn't see that one coming," Allison admitted and then the topic shifted again to something else and that was that. Stiles couldn't stop himself from smiling sort of stupidly, because even if this wasn't his Pack, even if he was going to be leaving soon and didn't in any way need their acceptance, it still felt good to have it.

Stiles thought it was all fine and going pretty damn well until Lexie opened her sweet little mouth. "Stiles, will you come to my birfday at Alfa Derek's?" she asked, her blue eyes all wide and adorable looking. He could see the plea on her face and even though he tensed up, he still made himself smile and say yes, because really, who could deny that little girl anything?

"Will that be alright?" he asked Scott later when they were washing the dishes for Melissa.

Scott shrugged, "It'll be fine, Derek gets that nobody can say no to Lexie." He handed Stiles another plate to dry and then shrugged, "Besides, why wouldn't it be fine, it wasn't like you two were all that close before you left, was it?"

And no, that was the problem, they hadn't been close at all. But then it wasn't exactly Derek that he was worried about facing. Well, okay that was a lie. He was worried about facing Derek about seeing the distrust in his eyes, about the Alpha confirming that Stiles had never been Pack. But he was also worried about seeing _her_.

"_He's my mate, this is my Pack and I think we both know you don't really belong here, don't we?"_


	5. Chapter 5

When the time came when Stiles actually had to leave to head over to the Hale House – and yes, yes he was secretly praying it wouldn't still be a burnt down shell, because that would be a creepy place to hold a children's party – he couldn't stop himself from shrugging into clothes that weren't his own. He had on another one of Rory's shirts, Lee's jacket, Brady's skinny jeans because they were exactly the same size and height and he even had on Lucas' Converses.

It comforted him a little bit, but he was still a nervous wreck as he drove over, taking his new car so that he could nervously blab to Maggie on the phone while he drove. "It'll be fine," she told him for like the thousandth time as he pulled up into the driveway of the Hale house and saw that the place was in fact sort of perfect looking.

If you hadn't have known, you wouldn't have even had a clue that it had been burnt down once. It was all new and awesome looking and Stiles sort of wanted to see the inside almost as much as he wanted to run. And he definitely wanted to run because there were people, obviously the Pack milling about in front of the house, where tables with balloons and a bouncy castle had been set up. There didn't seem to be any kids though other than one or two, Lexie not included and Stiles was guessing this was actually more of a Pack party for her than an actual birthday party.

It made him feel out of place.

"Oh my God, I'm going to die," he muttered, but of course Maggie could hear him and all of the wolves could too.

Stiles was pretty sure he spotted Derek, but he looked away quickly, staring at the radio like he could see Maggie through it or something. He would have given anything to have had her or one of his other Pack mates next to him right then. Absolutely _anything_.

Of course, she laughed at him, because Maggie was a lovely person like that.

"Stiles, just get your ass out the car," she told him and he knew she was rolling her eyes, "You're going to be fine. Worst case scenario is that you have to run, but we all know you're good at that." Of course he was good at that. He'd been running from Beacon Hills for nine years now.

He nodded numbly before he remembered that she couldn't actually see him.

"Okay," he said eventually, "I'm going, if I get through this, you have to argue my case and get Rory to let me have a puppy."

Maggie's laugh was full blown and hearty this time and he was pretty sure he could hear Rory in the background. "Sure thing," she told him, "But you still know it isn't going to happen, you'd let the thing run riot."

He pulled a face that she must have known he was going to pull if the way she laughed again was anything to go by. "Right," he said, running a hand through his hair. His fingers twitched with the need for a cigarette. He really, _really_ wanted one. Just to help calm himself down. Just one. "I'm going, be safe."

"You too," she said, laughter in her voice and then hung up. Leaving Stiles to meet his fate and the Pack of werewolves that were all now staring at his car. It made him even more glad that he'd brought his new one, because it wouldn't quite have had the same effect if he'd pulled up in his jeep he didn't think. Not that he was entirely sure what the effect was, but that so wasn't the point. Not at all.

Taking a deep breath he climbed out of the car, tucking his phone into his pocket as he did so; which was actually a bit of a difficult task given how tight his skinny jeans were. Although saying they were his was a bit of an overstatement.

He briefly wondered what he smelt like to them, because he knew he had multiple other scents mixed in with his own. Subtle but there. It was comforting to him, but all of them were glaring at him now. Like they wanted to tear off his head.

And then he relaxed as a small body came flying at him, ankles locking around his back as Lexie grinned into his face. "Stiles!" she cuddled into him after he'd caught her easily and he laughed because there wasn't a single thing about this little girl that wasn't adorable. "You came!"

He shifted her a little so that he could actually breathe.

"Of course I did," he told her, because really, there had been no way that he wouldn't turn up. He opened his mouth to say something else to her, he wasn't completely sure what. No doubt, he was going to comment on the fact she was wrinkling her tiny little nose at him, but then there was a shout from across the driveway.

He knew that he was practically vibrating from nerves, his hands clenching repeatedly into fists down by his side. Honestly, the only thing that was keeping him from getting straight back into the car was the way Lexie was staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

He gently lowered her back to the ground and flashed Scott a sheepish grin where he was standing over by what looked to be the food table. Derek's Pack had grown by about four from what Stiles could tell, not counting Lexie even though she had flashed him _the_ most adorable fangs in the world when she'd smiled just.

"Stiles, will you come on da bouncy castle wiv me?" Lexie asked, tugging at his sleeve. When she smiled at him, his heart melted.

"I'd love to," he told her, which wasn't a lie at all, because _come on, bouncy castles!_ Lexie slid her hand into his and started tugging him towards the bouncy castle, which was actually a pretty kick ass looking bouncy castle if he did say so himself.

Stiles was a child at heart, he didn't think there was any shame in admitting that. Not really.

"Stiles?"

Stiles' heart stuttered in his chest at the sound of Derek's voice, the commanding Alpha-tone running through it and making him shiver. He could feel the entire Pack freeze in response to his voice and Stiles would have been lying if he'd said it didn't affect him just a little. And at that point he had no choice but to look over at Derek, freezing in his tracks even though Lexie was still trying to tug him along.

Derek looked tired, but other than that he hadn't changed at all. He was staring at Stiles like he was seeing a ghost and Stiles assumed that meant that either he hadn't believed Scott when he'd said Stiles was back in town, or Scott had been too much of a dumbass to fill him in on that point. He was guessing it was probably the latter if he was being honest.

The wind was blowing towards him, which made him wondered if they'd realised yet that he wasn't completely human. Not all of them and especially not Derek were going to be such dumbasses that they could miss the change in his scent. He wasn't sure what to make of the way Derek was looking at him though, he didn't know if that weird look in his eye was because he'd realised that Stiles wasn't quite human anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles tried not to choke on the fact that Derek's scent seemed to be the only thing filling his lungs. Which, should not have been possible in any way because _hello, they were outside! Outside meant less prominent personal scents! But hey, apparently not! _And Stiles wouldn't admit it, but looking at Derek hurt too, because, well just because. Because that was Derek and he'd been pretty intent on avoiding him until a certain female McCall child with Allison's eyes came along. _Fuck my life!_ was really all Stiles could think at that moment.

Thankfully what came out of his mouth was really a very curt-sounding, "Derek," and he even nodded. And sure, okay, he knew that wasn't really correct etiquette considering he was on another Alpha's territory and his own Pack weren't here to save his ass, but at the time he didn't even consider that. He was back to being a teenager again and speaking before he even had a chance to register what he was saying.

He didn't look at Derek long enough after that to gauge his reaction, although he could smell the tension in the air that felt like a noose around his throat. Thankfully, he was given an excuse when Lexie carried on pulling him towards the bouncy castle.

Once he got past the fact that people were still openly staring at him, he actually managed to relax – a little bit. He had no shame in admitting that he adored the bouncy castle, he even texted the entire of his Pack quite simply saying: _**Be jealous losers, I'm on a bouncy castle right now! :D **_Amazingly, a lot of them ignored that. . . he couldn't think why. Maggie and Lee texted him backs saying exactly the same thing though and it wasn't polite. Which was exactly the reason he didn't explain to Lexie why he was laughing.

As soon as he stepped off the bouncy castle, he felt like he was leaving a safe haven or something. Especially when he was rugby tackled the minute his feet hit solid and non-wobbling ground. He almost laughed when Lydia wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him like some sort of retarded monkey. He almost laughed because having her face buried in his neck like it was then had probably been wet dream material back when he was a teenager. The only problem was, Lydia wasn't an idiot – and she also apparently wasn't very human anymore either – and jerked back almost immediately, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're a wolf?" she asked and he was pretty sure the entire of Derek's Pack, the Alpha included froze again. He was pretty sure he could hear crickets chirping somewhere in the undergrowth of the woods. It did however confirm that he'd done well staying downwind for so long.

He shifted back on his heels a little awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Surprise," he said, flashing her a nervous smile that made a muscle in her pretty little forehead twitch.

Lydia had aged, but she'd aged well. Nine years wasn't all that long though and she still looked as mean as a snake all bundled up in a strawberry blonde package. He could definitely still understand when looking at her why he had been so obsessed. He was also a little bit scared, because she looked like she wanted to tear his head off and feed it to Jackson. Jackson who was standing just behind her with his jaw slack.

Jackson hadn't changed either. Stiles wondered if he was still all scaly. He thought probably.

"What the hell do you mean, _surprise_, you can't just turn up here and not be human! You could have told us! Do you have any idea how worried we were about you being all vulnerable and human? No, obviously you don't, otherwise you actually would have had some consideration before just turning up here and dropping that bombshell!" she actually did smack him then, hard on the arm and he winced even though that didn't actually hurt. He lived in the same house as Lucy and she punched like a pro-boxer. He was pretty sure his arms and stomach were eternally numb.

Especially since Lucy just did it for shits and giggles. And so did Maggie.

Actually, all the women in his Pack were kind of mean.

"Yeah, well I was kind of hoping it would stay a secret," he said, shrugging a little bit, "I managed to fool Scott."

Lydia gave him an incredulous look. "You fooled Scott?" she scoffed, "Congratulations on the easiest feat possible, Stiles!" He actually felt like he wanted to curl up in a ball and cower under the weight of his gaze. But instead all he did was laugh when he met Scott's eyes and saw him looking like someone had just smacked him with a truck. Saying he was surprised was an understatement.

"How long have you been a wolf?" Danny asked, always the one to ask the right questions and Stiles was actually pretty glad to see Danny. He'd always liked Danny, even if the guy had never answered his question on whether or not he was attractive to gay guys. He already knew that answer now, but he could have done with the confidence boost as a teenager.

He smiled at Danny properly, relieved when the guy smiled back genuinely. But then there wasn't anything about Danny that wasn't genuine.

"Just over eight years now," he replied, even though it felt like a lot longer. It felt like he'd been with his Pack for his entire life. But then that could have something to do with his attempt at blocking out everything to do with Beacon Hills. It hadn't really worked.

He couldn't even remember that one year in between leaving and joining the Pack. He'd been all alone, human and that was about all he could think of. That year had dragged on forever it had seemed, but it had also melted away in his memory all too easily.

"_Eight years!_" Scott and Derek both shouted that together and Stiles didn't miss the way that the entire of the Hale Pack flinched at Derek's tone. Stiles however, wasn't fazed as much. He was the master of handling Derek's threats and that added with the fact he was now able to defend himself better meant that he had more confidence in dealing with Derek. Admittedly, it made his stomach churn to look at him and he sort of wanted to blanch under the weight of Derek's anger that he could smell in the air. It was basically choking him, especially coupled with the other scent. . . what was that?_ Betrayal? Concern? _He didn't know. He didn't think he particularly wanted to.

He didn't even flinch when Derek stalked towards him and sniffed his neck, even though he did tense up a little bit at Derek's proximity. He wondered what his _mate_ would think. He couldn't actually see her around which was strange. He would have expected she would have been there, clinging to Derek the moment she noticed Stiles.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, forcing himself to keep calm, forcing his wolf to stop pacing inside of him, to stop trying to freak out. But more than anything, he was having to stop himself from pressing closer to Derek, from responding to that damn gorgeous scent that was wrapping around him. It was intoxicating and addictive and it was so completely Derek. But more than anything, it was confusing and wrong and not something Stiles should be feeling at all. "Eight years, eight years since I was bitten, eight years since I became a werewolf. Eight. Years. Would you like me to write it down for you?"

A small part of Stiles knew that nobody else could get away with talking to Derek like that. Back when he'd being allowed to hang around the Pack as a teenager, he'd seen Derek fling wolves into buildings for less. And he thought maybe it was something left over from thinking of Stiles as delicate and human, as breakable, but Derek doesn't lash out at him. Admittedly he backs him up and slams him into a table with not as much force as he could have done. Derek bares his fangs, snarling low in his throat as he pins Stiles by his shirt.

And Stiles, Stiles just bares his fangs right back at him and snarls equally as loudly, eyes flashing. Because Derek isn't his Alpha. He doesn't have to cower before Derek. He doesn't have to cower before anyone here; and he won't. He refuses to. And he knows that the look on Derek's face is nothing short of full blown surprise. He's literally _stunned_ that Stiles is standing up to him, that Stiles has fangs. But he really doesn't care.

"You should have come home," Derek says and it's in the most pathetic voice that Stiles has ever heard him use, even though he's not sure anyone else recognises it as that; because it's still a growl and it still sounds almost like an order, "You were still Pack, you could have come home."

And in response Stiles tipped his head back, fangs and claws vanishing as he laughs. He knew it wasn't a nice laugh, it was actually pretty horrible. He can tell from the way Derek tenses up. He laughed because of what Derek just said, because he called him Pack. Because Derek just spouted so much bullshit it was unreal. Especially given that he apparently thinks from the way he said that that Stiles is all alone. He can tell that's what Derek thinks, what they all think. They think he's a lone wolf, they think he has no Pack, that he would be wanting one, craving one. Wanting and craving, _this one_.

But he isn't. He doesn't want this Pack, doesn't want what they have to offer, because he has a family that actually wants him now. So he just laughs and then he shoves at Derek's chest, slamming the heels of his hands into Derek's pecks – and he doesn't think about how hard and amazing they feel in that split second, not at all. He knows that the only reason he managed to get Derek to let go of him was because he caught the Alpha off guard.

"I was _never_ Pack," Stiles spat out, his eyes flashing again, "So why the hell would I have wanted to come back?"

And with that he just turns around and leaves, giving Lexie an apologetic smile. He doesn't stay long enough for anyone to say anything, long enough to see the expression on Derek's face. He doesn't stick around, he just leaves, getting back into his car and slamming it into reverse. Because really, Stiles doesn't think there's anything left to say anymore.

Weirdly though, he does feel a little better. Like he's let go of the past almost. It's strange. Of course, he still curled up in a ball that night and cried, but that was more habit than anything else, he was sure.


	6. Chapter 6

The first one of Derek's Pack to hunt Stiles down was Isaac and Stiles couldn't say that he was actually surprised. Because before Stiles had left, before he'd run, he and Isaac had gotten pretty close. That was after Isaac had gotten over his arrogant, over-confident attitude of a newly turned werewolf. After that superficial part of him dissolved, he became fragile. Underneath it all he was still broken from the treatment he'd received from his father. He'd needed someone to turn to, to comfort him and for some reason that person had been Stiles.

Stiles still didn't know why. He didn't particularly care to. All he knew was that he'd felt guilty when he left and still felt guilty for ditching Isaac like that. It was this knot that was tied up in his belly and only started to loosen when Isaac crawled in through his bedroom window the next morning, waking Stiles up.

Even at twenty five, Isaac didn't seem to have changed too much. He certainly didn't hesitate to clamber onto Stiles' bed and throw an arm over his chest. Isaac buried his face in the side of Stiles' neck, uncaring that they were from two different Packs, that it had been nine years and that if anyone walked in on them now, they'd deem this either inappropriate due to their age or they'd decide that they were dating.

But it was neither of those things. They were wolves. Isaac had probably been the closest thing to Pack that Stiles had had last time he had been in Beacon Hills. Isaac had needed him, wanted him around more to the point and not even Scott could say both of those things. Unfortunately, Isaac just hadn't been enough to stick around for.

"You left," Isaac mumbled into the flesh of his neck. It wasn't an accusation, it was just a statement of fact.

"I had to," Stiles replied, tightening his arms around Isaac and pulling him in more, feeling the other guy snuffle into the side of his neck. It was sort of adorable and it reminded him of Pack. It filled a space inside of him that not having them around left, or at least filled it a little.

"I know," Isaac told him and his heart didn't stutter at all. The beat remained even, because Isaac did know. Isaac knew that Stiles had been on the edge, that he hadn't felt like he was Pack. Stiles had told him about all those insecurities years ago when they were teenagers and in exactly the same position. He'd told him and Isaac had listened. He'd told Stiles that he was Pack to him, because honestly, Isaac hadn't known about how the other felt. He hadn't known if Stiles was Pack or not, he just knew that he felt like he was to him.

That had been enough for a while, but in the end they'd both known Stiles was just going to throw his hands up and quit eventually.

Stiles rested his cheek against the top of Isaac's head and breathed in the familiar scent of him, committing it to memory again.

"I missed you though," Isaac said and his heart didn't stutter that time either.

Stiles smiled. "I missed you too," he replied, which was the truth, "And I'm sorry." He was more sorry than he could say, more sorry than he knew how to express. Because he'd abandoned Isaac. Isaac had asked him not to go, had begged him not to, but Stiles had still gone. Isaac was the only person that Stiles had said goodbye to other than his father. Hell, Isaac had helped him pack once he'd realised that Stiles wasn't going to change his mind.

Isaac whined low in his throat and exhaled loudly against Stiles' neck and Stiles could remember when he was human and he'd thought being wrapped up like this with Isaac had been so strange. He'd done it, but it had been strange. Now it was just natural.

"Derek's mad," Isaac told him an hour or so later when they were sitting side by side on the bed, a box of cereal in between Stiles' knees. They were eating it dry, neither of them having been bothered to dig out bowls or anything like that. "Like majorly mad."

Unlike when Isaac was outside with the rest of his Pack, with anyone else, submission and nervousness wasn't written into every line of his body. He was relaxed, one leg hanging over the side of the bed, the other one lying flat, his thigh pressing against Stiles' as he leant into him.

"Why specifically?" Stiles asked, because he could think of a lot of reasons why Derek would be pissed. The guy was eternally cranky, it was like it was his default mood or something.

"Well he's stressed out at the moment because we've got another Pack trying to move in on our territory and push us out," he explained, shoving another handful of cereal into his mouth and then proceeding to talk through it, "But after you left he flipped out, he didn't like you saying you weren't ever Pack."

Stiles snorted, "Well I wasn't."

Isaac just shrugged, bumping Stiles a little bit when he did so, "I think that reaction means that he was under the impression you were."

"Could have fooled me."

The other werewolf just snorted and rolled his eyes, saying nothing more. No doubt because he knew that Stiles was thinking at a thousand miles a minute about what he had just said. Thinking about how maybe he had belonged a little bit once upon a time. Thinking about Derek.

In the back of his mind though, Stiles couldn't help but think that this, _this _was exactly why he'd been avoiding coming back. It was freaking him out and he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to be thinking about anything. He didn't like it. Not at all. But there wasn't much he could do about it now that he was there. It would have looked cowardly if he'd just left.

That was the one thing that he was going to refuse to do while he was here: look weak in front of them ever again. Look weak in front of Derek ever again. That just wasn't going to happen.


	7. Chapter 7

It was three days after Lexie's birthday party that it happened, two days after Isaac had spent the day lounging around with him, pretending they were a two wolf Pack again just for a little while. And Stiles wouldn't deny that it was comforting to have Isaac's scent covering his room, clinging to the back of his tongue every time he breathed in. And what's more, he could smell Isaac's contentment, his happiness and that just made coming to Beacon Hills again just a little bit more bearable. He really had missed the guy, he wouldn't deny that.

There was just something about Isaac that triggered his protective side. Maybe it was Isaac's vulnerability. Maybe it was just that Isaac was the only one who understood.

And that was why when Isaac rang him at one in the morning, Stiles didn't even hesitate. He didn't ask why Isaac was ringing him instead of his own Alpha. He just listened to Isaac's pleading voice, to his panic, found out where he was and ran. He slammed his jeep into reverse and was glad his Dad was the Sheriff because the speed he drove at he was seriously close to being pulled over.

Isaac was already looking on the verge of collapsing when Stiles reached him, which was impressive considering he was fighting three wolves. He had a gash torn across his chest and another on the side of his neck, an obvious attempt by one of the strangers to tear out his trachea.

Stiles didn't even wait until the car had completely stopped moving, he just flung himself out of the jeep, glad that there was no one about to hear his snarl or see him as he shifted fluidly from human to his Beta-form. He caught one of the wolves around the neck, flinging him off of Isaac and into a wall, watching out of the corner of his eye as Isaac crumpled to the floor.

There were two males and one female and as soon as the first male bounced off the wall, the second was coming at him. But the female, she hung back, staring at him with a strange look on her face. Stiles braced himself close to the ground over Isaac and then leapt, meeting the other male Beta in mid-air. It knocked some of the air out of his lungs when they collided, but he recovered quicker, flipping them and getting his teeth into the other wolf's throat. He bit down, trying not to gag on the blood that instantly rushed into his mouth.

It tasted disgusting, but he'd done this before.

Stiles wasn't weak anymore. His Pack had had its trouble. They'd had to learn to defend themselves, had to learn how to no longer be overlooked. Ever since they'd lost one of their own. Callum's father. They refused to lose another; and so they had trained and they had taken down anything that had posed any threat to their tight family unit.

As they landed, Stiles jerked his head sideways and felt the rival Beta's throat come loose. A whole chunk of flesh and windpipe was suddenly separate from the guy's neck and it reminded Stiles almost of Peter, of his death. But he didn't have time to think about that, didn't have time to think anything as he spat the chunk of flesh out in disgust and rolled away from the body, positioning himself back over Isaac and snarling.

"Shit, he's one of Rory's," the female cursed low under her breath, but Stiles still heard her, of course he did. "We have to go," she was a smarter one, he had to give her that. She grabbed the arm of the other Beta, the one he had thrown against the wall and started dragging him away with a last, sad glance at their fallen Pack mate.

Stiles would have followed, would have ended them too if he hadn't had Isaac underneath him, his pitiful moans blocking out everything else that Stiles was aware of. He turned back to human almost instantly, save for his claws, which he used to shred Isaac's t-shirt. And it wasn't even weird anymore for him to duck in and swipe his tongue over the worst gash across Isaac's belly. He had loads more on his chest and no doubt some on his back, but that was the worst one, so Stiles focussed on that and lapped at it for a minute or so, helping it knit back together slowly.

Isaac whimpered, but he also made a sound of thanks and of comfort when Stiles lifted him off the dirty ground. Isaac's scent was twisted with pain, fear and relief and it was thick and tangible in the air. In some weird way, it made Stiles want to cry. He thought it would probably look weird if anyone saw him, the scrawny Stiles Stilinski carrying Isaac bridal style. Except he wasn't so scrawny anymore and he had super werewolf strength on top of that, so it was almost effortless.

He managed to arrange Isaac awkwardly into the passenger side of his jeep and then he was slamming the vehicle into reverse again and breaking even more speed limits on the way over to Derek's house.

He knew it probably wasn't the best idea to be the new wolf in town and to wander right up to their threshold with one of their injured wolves, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Isaac would heal better with his Pack around him and he'd be safer. Besides, Stiles had calls to make. Because he'd been recognised, recognised as being one of Rory's. Recognised as being one of Rory's in Beacon Hills. That shouldn't have happened and Stiles had a nagging feeling that he knew something pulling at the back of his mind. He just couldn't quite remember it.

Derek must have heard him coming, because even though it was about two in the morning by this point, he was standing out on the porch waiting for him when Stiles drove up. And Stiles knew it must have looked suspicious, having blood on his mouth and carrying a bleeding and barely conscious Isaac out of his jeep. But right then, he didn't care, because this was _Isaac_. He didn't even care that the entire of Derek's Pack seemed to be in the one house, he just walked past Derek and followed Isaac's whispered directions to the room that reeked of the young werewolf.

"Don't leave me," Isaac muttered, clinging to the back of Stiles' neck when he lowered him down onto the bed. And Stiles knew that he didn't just mean don't leave him alone in the house and it was both guilt and that old sense of loyalty that had him gently pressing his forehead against Isaac's.

Derek was staring at him weirdly, like he didn't know what to make of the person in front of him. Like he didn't know what to make of a Stiles with a blood stained mouth. A werewolf Stiles with a blood stained mouth, comforting a member of another Pack. Stiles didn't want to focus on that though, so instead he just dipped his head down and started lapping at Isaac's wounds again and he knew technically that he shouldn't be doing that, that he should be letting Derek take care of his own Pack member, but Stiles couldn't help himself and Derek just seemed frozen.

He just sat there staring at Stiles, mouth hanging slightly open and looking like he was seeing a ghost again.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek didn't know what the hell he was supposed to be thinking. Scott hadn't told him that Stiles was back in town, of course he hadn't, he was Scott and simple things like that just slipped his mind. No, Derek had had to find out when Stiles had turned up in his driveway looking all different and confident, his hair grown out and his gaze cautious. It was like a slap to the face, how different Stiles was from the hyperactive teenager that Derek had grown used to.

The person who had stood in front of him was stronger, more confident. He had muscle packed onto his body, but he was still lean and there was something in the way that he walked that made him seem like a tightly wound spring, just waiting to release. There was an edge to him, something Derek couldn't quite place.

And yet, he was still the same in some ways. He was still the only one who had the courage to walk away from Derek. He was still the only one to ever push him. And of course, he could still be ridiculously childish, bouncing on that damn bouncy castle with Lexie like he didn't have a care in the world. And then it was like a switch had been thrown in Stiles' head.

One minute he was laughing and happy with Lexie and the next he was snarling right back in Derek's face, lips drawn back over extended fangs and his eyes flashing bright yellow. Not even amber like almost every other Beta he had ever come across, but a frightening dog yellow. Being that close to Stiles, his scent had hit him like a sledgehammer. So incredibly similar and yet with that difference, that edge to it that had come when he had shifted from wolf to human.

And he'd been like that for eight years. _Eight years_ he had been a wolf and Derek hadn't had any clue. He didn't know why Stiles had moved away. He didn't know why Stiles had refused to come back, but he would have thought that being turned would have swayed his decision a little. Or did he think Derek wouldn't accept him back because he'd been bitten by another? Did he really think Derek was that harsh.

Although there were those harshly said words, laced with a bitterness Derek couldn't quite grasp. "I was _never _Pack." But of course he was. Of course Stiles was Pack. He had been a key part, an important part of it all and Derek could still feel the aching loss that lingered there amongst them with Stiles' absence.

He even acted like Pack, appearing again with Isaac in his arms and blood smeared around his mouth. He reeked of anger and of other wolves and of Isaac and he didn't cower to Derek at all. He walked straight past him, into Isaac's room and proceeded to tend to him as though Isaac was his responsibility, his pup or something. And Derek, Derek had just shut down. Because he didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't know how to respond to a blood-smeared, fierce Stiles. He didn't know what to think, what to feel, because the thought of Stiles fighting made a weird sort of desperation and fear claw at his insides, but the thought of him emerging out of it completely unharmed like he obviously was made Derek's wolf howl in triumph and pride.

It was a complete conflict of emotions. He was thinking one thing and his wolf was demanding another. His wolf wanted to press closer to Stiles, to demand that he stay, to demand _answers_, but Derek the man didn't know how to do that. So he ran. He fled from the room like a terrified Omega running from his raging Alpha. He ran from Stiles and only slunk back hours later.

He only slunk back when he heard the steady heartbeats and found Stiles curled up around Isaac's body, both of them asleep, their limbs tangled together and Isaac's face pressed into Stiles' neck. It was comfort, plain and simple, but Derek didn't know what to think still.

It was confusing. Because Stiles wasn't supposed to be willing to sleep in another Alpha's territory. He wasn't supposed to just waltz in and act like the human Stiles would have done. He was supposed to be afraid, he was supposed to adhere to policies and react like any other wolf. He wasn't supposed to act so different, so like _Stiles_.

Derek didn't know what Stiles was hiding, he didn't know why he'd left like he had done and why he had apparently been so afraid to return. He didn't have a clue, but he intended to find out. He was going to make Stiles Pack again even if it was the last thing he did. After all, it couldn't be that hard, because Stiles was a wolf now and every wolf, whether or not they wanted to admit it needed a Pack.

It would just be a matter of persuasion and Derek knew better than most how stubborn Stiles could be.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Flashback chapter, in case it wasn't obvious. . . xD**_

_Stiles smiled at the sight of a sleeping Derek, passed out on the couch next to him. The rest of the Pack were all sprawled on the floor and it was like a maze that he had to pick his way through in order to get to the door. A part of him, a big part of him he'd admit, wanted to stay, but he knew his Dad would be pissed if he stayed out any longer. He had about an hour before his Dad got home and if he left now he could beat him back and pretend he'd been there all along. It would be that simple. _

_So Stiles left, taking one last look at everyone's sleeping form, his eyes lingering on Derek and then drifting to Isaac who had been curled up on the floor near Stiles' feet. Nobody knew how close he and Isaac had gotten, because he knew that Isaac didn't want them picking up on any sort of weakness. He wanted to be strong like the rest of them and that couldn't happen if he admitted that he spent most nights curled up next to Stiles and using him as a breathing comfort blanket. _

_Stiles didn't mind though. It made him feel like Pack, even though he knew that deep down he wasn't really. It was obvious in the way that they all slept. Everyone was sprawled out on the floor, but they were all touching, limbs thrown over each other and heads pillows on stomachs. Derek was set apart slightly as the Alpha, but what excuse did Stiles have? He was set apart because he was human? No, that wasn't even right, because Lydia and Allison were human. Except they were both mated, so maybe it did make sense after all. _

_Pulling a slight face, Stiles tore his eyes away from them and shut the door behind him quietly. He knew that after the day spent rolling around in the woods, it'd take a lot to wake any of them up. They all slept like rocks, even Derek, not that the Alpha would admit to it. _

"_Aww, that's sweet, you actually think that you're a part of this Pack, don't you?" _

_Stiles jumped at the sound of her voice, the sarcasm dripping from the words. He whipped around to see her leaning there against the side of the house, perfect as always and he hadn't realised actually that she hadn't been lying in amongst the others. _

_A horrible smile was stretching her lips and it made him feel ill inside, just like her words made him feel like he was tying himself into knots. "Sweetie, you're not," she said, taking a step closer, her head tilting to the side and that smile growing even wider. She was enjoying this, enjoying whatever it was that she saw on his face. "You're like a pet or something, a little trophy human."_

_And he wanted to dispute that, he wasn't to say that he was something, that he was a part of the Pack, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, "Shut up Erica."_

_She laughed, her head tipped back and the sound ringing out cruelly. There was no other sound but that laugh and Stiles dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands to try and keep his emotions in check. He didn't need her thinking that she was winning, that he was weak. When really, they all knew that both of those things were true. _

_Normally, she left him alone after one or two spiteful sentences, but apparently this time it wasn't enough. _

"_You think you're something to them, to any of them, but you're not," she said, twirling a piece of hair around a clawed finger and smiling an ugly smile. He knew what she was doing by shifting ever so slightly, she was showing him why she was better. She was proving why she was accepted and he wasn't. "You're just some stupid little human that's allowed to stick around," she smirked, "And what do you think will happen when he finds out about your little obsession, when Derek realises that you love him?"_

_Stiles cringed, he couldn't help himself, because that right there was something he worried about daily. Derek would probably kick his ass if he found out, or worse, he'd laugh. _

"_It's kind of pitiful actually, because really Stiles, why would he ever want someone like you?" she asked him, moving closer, too close, but he couldn't seem to remember how to make his feet work. And when he did, it was a mistake, because he'd backed himself up against his jeep with nowhere to run. He was stuck, stuck listening to what she had to say. "Why would he even look at you twice when he has someone like me?" She laughed at the expression on his face and he didn't want to know what he looked like. _

_She pressed closer to him, her clawed fingers scratching lightly along his jaw as she gripped his chin."Aww, didn't know that, did you?" she asked, her head tipped back as she laughed again. Stiles didn't understand how anyone could be so beautiful but also so ugly at the same time. "He's mine Stiles. He's my mate, this is my Pack and I think we both know you don't really belong here, don't we?"_

_She darted in and licked a stripe up the side of his cheek and laughed at his disgusted expression. Dancing backwards, her eyes flickered to amber as she grinned. "I'd just quit while you're ahead, Stiles," she told him, still walking backwards towards the house again, towards Derek, "I mean really."_

_Stiles didn't even wait until she'd left completely. He just scrambled into the jeep and drove and he was pretty proud of himself, because he managed to get all the way home before the tears fell, before the sobs crawled up and out of his throat, clawing at his insides. _

_And that was how his Dad found him not long after, curled in on himself by the front door, his face red and ugly looking, the tears still carving glistening tracks down his face. His Dad hadn't seen him like that since his mum had died, since the entire world had felt like it was suddenly too heavy, had felt like it was crushing him. He knew he was scaring his Dad being like that again, especially when his sobs turned into a full blown panic attack. _

_He clung to his Dad like he had as a child, pressing his face into his Dad's work shirt and just crying. He didn't know why his Dad agreed so easily when Stiles told him he had to get away from Beacon Hills. He thought maybe it was a combination of seeing Stiles so upset and of thinking he was only going to need a week or so to calm down. _

_And that was how Stiles got to leave, because of his Dad. It was his Dad that made the call to his mother's sister, to Stiles' Aunt Susan. It was his Dad that tucked him up into bed and told him that they'd leave as soon as he was ready, that they'd leave in the morning. _

_But it was Isaac who helped him pack his bags. It was Isaac who climbed in through Stiles' bedroom window as usual and pulled him close as soon as he saw Stiles' red rimmed eyes. Stiles didn't cry again, he didn't let himself, but he felt like he wanted to when Isaac stared at him like the whole world was shattering the moment Stiles told him that he had to go. _

"_Don't," he sounded like he was choking on words as his hands clutched at Stiles' shoulders, like that could keep him there, keep him in place, "Don't leave me, you can't leave me." And eventually the quiet pleading turned into begging and the begging turned into heartbreaking sobs and Stiles just sat on the floor with Isaac, rocking him gently and muttering, "I have to," over and over again. _

_Because Isaac was the only one that would understand. Isaac knew how he felt, Isaac knew that he didn't belong. _

"_I need to get away from here," Stiles told him, his hands framing either side of Isaac's face, their foreheads pressed together and Stiles didn't realise until then that he was crying too, "I'm not Pack, I'll never be Pack, so I just have to go, I have to learn how to be me again." He had to learn how to live again, because he'd forgotten how ever since this entire werewolf thing had happened. _

_Isaac didn't ask him not to leave again, but the request was written in his entire posture, in his expression as he helped Stiles pack up his bags. He looked so much like a kicked puppy when he realised that Stiles was packing far more than he'd ever need for a week. He was packing almost everything, everything of any importance. All of his clothes, pictures of his mother, pictures of the Pack, pictures of him and his Dad. He took it all, took anything and everything that was important, leaving behind all unnecessary items or items that just hurt too much to look at. _

_His Dad didn't look surprised to see Isaac when he helped Stiles carry down his bags to the car. But then, Isaac had become a practically permanent fixture in Stiles house recently. He'd become the new Scott, the pre-werewolf Scott at least. And yet, Isaac wasn't Scott's replacement, he was just something new._

_Isaac hugged him and pressed his wet face into the crook of Stiles' neck, wrapping Stiles up in his scent in that way that he was always doing it seemed. "Don't forget me," Isaac muttered and Stiles knew he wasn't supposed to hear it, which was why he said nothing. He just hugged Isaac back just as tightly and then physically had to tear himself away, refusing to look in the car's mirrors to see Isaac watching the car leave like Stiles knew he was doing. _

_And then things had just seemed to steam roll. _

_A week at his Aunt's had turned into two and two weeks had turned into a month and then before he knew it summer was over and he was enrolling in the local high school. His Dad didn't complain, but Stiles would have had to have been an idiot not to hear the plea in his voice. He ignored it and pushed on and met Maggie in high school, recognised the signs immediately and called her out on being a werewolf, because even though he didn't want to admit it then, he missed the supernatural in his life. And Maggie, Maggie didn't question why Stiles turned off his phone all the time, why he ignored all calls, why he eventually changed his number, but still kept all his old contacts written down on a piece of paper. Unlike his aunt, Maggie understood that Stiles just needed to heal, he just needed time. _

_It was Maggie who introduced him to Rory and the others and it was all of them that made Stiles learn how to live again. It had been a year since he'd moved from Beacon Hills and when he asked, Rory told him. And when he explained, they called him an idiot for thinking he needed that to be Pack, to be family. _

_It was the Pack that stitched up the seams of Stiles' soul, who filled him up with more acceptance and love than he knew what to do with. Eventually, he moved out of his Aunt's and into the Pack house, he lived and breathed the Pack. He went to a local university and became everything he wanted to be and sometimes he even managed to forget that there was ever such a place as Beacon Hills. _

_It felt like Stiles had been born to be a werewolf. He was head Beta within six months. He had no problem with control, no problem with shifting, no problem at all. Everyone loved him. Every Pack they came across either adored him or were afraid of him. Especially after Sam had died, after they'd all had to become stronger and closer. _

_Stiles carved out his new path with his Pack beside him, matching him step for step and dropping back to help him out whenever he felt like he was falling behind. Stiles became Pack, he became family and that void inside of him was slowly filled up to the brim again. But that didn't mean Stiles forgot. All the new friends he made didn't mean he forgot Scott or Isaac, even if he ignored their calls. All the relationships and flings he had didn't mean he forgot about Derek, didn't mean he stopped loving him for even one stupid second. Stiles didn't forget anything, even to the degree that his past boyfriends and occasionally girlfriends called him emotionally stunted or heartless. _

_It was his Pack though that knew that he was none of those things, he was just a little bit broken in a way none of them knew how to fix. But he was getting there. He was determined to get there and he thought he almost had done, until made the decision to come back to Beacon Hills. Then Stiles just felt like maybe those stitched up seams were coming undone all over again and this time, Stiles didn't have a clue where to find any thread. _


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles mumbled low and rolled over a little onto his back, Isaac's arm remaining in place thrown over his waist. They'd been sleeping face to face, but now Isaac curled up against his side and Stiles could tell by his breathing and his heartbeat that he was awake. Isaac had healed up well, Stiles already knew that, but he traced his fingertips over where the wounds had been anyway, pleased when he found that the skin was smoothed and unblemished. Or at least, it wasn't blemished any further, considering Isaac was still scared and damaged slightly from his experience living with his father. It made Stiles' blood boil to see the scars, always had done.

It felt weird sleeping in another Pack's house, being that relaxed, but he didn't really think about it too much. He didn't want to. He didn't want to think what it could mean to be that relaxed. If he was being honest, he was just waiting for something to ruin it.

"Isaac?" he asked, his voice low and quiet. He still knew that the rest of Derek's Pack could hear him if they were listening intentionally. They probably were. Werewolves could be nosey like that and he had to admit that if there was a strange wolf on his territory, he would be listening too.

He thought probably that the only reason that they were all staying in this house was because of the threat from the other Pack. He knew for a fact that Scott and Allison had their own place. Stiles found it weird to think of a Pack not all living together in one big Packhouse.

"Mmm?" Isaac didn't even bother lifting his head out of Stiles' neck and for some reason that made Stiles chuckle under his breath.

He didn't really want to interrupt the peaceful state they had going on right then, but he had to ask. It had been bugging him. "Where's Erica?" he asked and Isaac actually raised his head at that, a frown creasing the skin between his eyes.

"Erica?" he parroted, obviously confused.

"Yeah, you know, blonde haired and bitchy," Stiles replied, stroking his finger along Isaac's spine out of nothing more than habit.

Isaac laughed, and rolled over onto his back, trapping Stiles' hand underneath him.

"She hasn't been around for a while," he said, "Just after you left she kind of went off the rails, started pretending she was Alpha Female or some shit, so when another Pack passed through and one of their males took some interest, Derek told her to pack her shit and leave."

And Stiles couldn't help it, he laughed. He threw his head back into the pillows and laughed so hard that he cried. He laughed because he was an idiot, because Erica had been a bitch and because in the end, neither of them had been in the Pack. Not really. He laughed until Isaac was looking at him weirdly, until there was the soft rumble of car engine in the driveway just outside and until Derek snarled low under his breath for all of them to get their asses outside.

Stiles felt like that sort of included him, even if it didn't.

He padded outside in nothing more than a pair of jeans, scratching his stomach and couldn't help but smile. A familiar Porsche was parked outside of the Hale house and an even more familiar person stood in front of it casually. Derek and his Pack were spread out in front of the house, their stance defensive. Stiles on the other hand just smiled and walked barefoot off the porch, standing just in front of Derek in a way that shocked all but one person.

"Now see I was hoping it'd be you that Trish was talking about," Mason said, smiling back at Stiles and pushing away from the car he was leaning on.

"Ahh, so she was one of yours," Stiles said tucking his hands into his back pockets and tilting his head a little bit to the side.

It had been a few years since he'd seen Mason and he looked good. He was just a little bit taller than Stiles and in some weird way had always reminded him of a weird combination of Danny and Jackson. He didn't know why, Mason just did.

"Yeah, I don't think you ever officially met Trish, actually," Mason said, the picture of relaxation, "And for the record, I'm not mad that you killed Francis, he was always a bit of an idiot."

Stiles smirked, "What makes you think I was sorry I did?"

"Nothing at all," Mason told him, moving closer slightly, like there was some sort of magnetic pull drawing him closer to Stiles, "I am however surprised to see you in Beacon Hills and I'm hoping this is the moment where you tell me you haven't mated into Hale's Pack."

Stiles couldn't help but laugh. "I was born here," he replied, grinning, "And what would happen if I said I had mated?"

Mason pouted ever so slightly, but looked completely serious when he said, "I'd be unbelievably jealous." He tilted his head a little and scented the air, "Except you still smell faintly of Rory and judging by your reaction, I'm guessing you haven't mated."

He snorted. "You caught me," he said, licking at his bottom lip and smirking when Mason's eyes instantly zeroed in on his mouth, "I'm back in town for my Dad's birthday and I'm _here_ because a few of your pups attacked a friend of mine."

"Well we are trying to take over here, Stiles," Mason told him, but he did look a little bit apologetic. Of course, that apology was for the past and not for the present. Stiles knew that.

"I've heard," he replied, "Which I take it means your brother's in town."

Mason flinched and that was all the answer that Stiles needed.

"You know if you handed him over then you'd have less of a problem," Stiles said, "Meaning, I won't ring Rory and we won't join in this little fight you have going on here."

"I'm not saying that what he did was right, Stiles, but Charlie is still my brother," Mason said and there was a defeated, sad look in his eyes. Like he already knew that the shit was going to hit the fan no matter what he did.

It had been Mason's brother Charlie who had killed one of Stiles' Pack mates, Sam. It was Charlie who had left Callum without a father and Mona without a mate. It was Charlie who had forced them all to train until their limbs felt like jelly, just so that they wouldn't be forced to lose another. But it was Mason who had taken his brother and run rather than letting him face his punishment.

"I know," Stiles replied honestly, because he understood that, he understood why Mason and his Pack had run, "But he still killed Sam and we're still going to kill him."

Mason flinched again. "Don't supposed I can persuade you to stay out of this?" he asked and Stiles knew that he didn't mean his Pack, he meant just Stiles alone.

"Aww, worried about little old me?" he replied, smiling. He wasn't even being sarcastic, he was flattered in a twisted sort of way, even if that concern wasn't needed. Even if he was still going to fight regardless of what Mason requested.

"Always," Mason said seriously, "I don't want you getting hurt."

"I can look after myself."

"I know," he admitted, "But it makes me feel ill to think of giving the order for someone to actually kill you."

Stiles was the one who took the step forwards this time, because he didn't actually hate Mason. They'd dated for just over a year, they'd been close, closer than Stiles let anyone normally get who wasn't Pack. And then it had all come crashing down when Charlie had killed Sam for no reason at all other than the guy was screwed up in the head.

"I miss you," Mason admitted when they were close enough to touch.

Stiles smiled sadly, "I know." He could have said that he missed Mason too, but he wasn't completely sure if he did and he didn't want to say anything that was a lie.

Mason just laughed at his response, but he wasn't offended. "If Sam hadn't been killed, would you have said yes?" he asked, his expression so hopeful that it was heartbreaking, "I have to ask."

Right after they'd found out that Sam had been killed, Mason had already moved out his Pack from the area, but he'd come to Stiles and asked him to be his mate, asked him to come with him. It hadn't been the first time that Mason had expressed a desire for that to happen, but it was the first time he'd asked outright. It was the first time that Stiles had been forced to give an answer.

Stiles met Mason's eyes as he shook his head, "No, I wouldn't have."

And there was no stutter in his heartbeat when he said that. He wasn't lying. He never would have accepted Mason's proposal of being mates. He never would have changed Packs. Not ever, because Stiles didn't love Mason. He never had. He'd liked him sure, he'd loved spending time with him. But Stiles hadn't ever loved him back. He didn't think he ever would have been able to.

"Why?" Mason blurted out, not seeming to be able to stop himself from asking that question. Stiles could smell his sadness and his pain as it clogged up the air. It made Stiles want to gag, but he kept his face impassive until eventually he cracked a smile.

"Wasn't it you who called me emotionally stunted?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mason snorted, "I believed my exact words were that I didn't care if you were emotionally stunted as long as you kept doing that with your mouth."

He laughed, tipping his head back a little. "Ahh yeah, I remember now," he said, not ashamed in the slightest, even though he could hear the noises of surprise from behind him, "That was a good day, I'll admit."

"We had a lot of those."

And yeah, they had, but it still wasn't enough to make Stiles forget the past. It still hadn't been enough to make Stiles learn how to fall in love again.

"Just don't pull an heroic bullshit," Mason said, starting to put distance in between them again, "I really don't want to see you die, Stiles."

Stiles didn't have an answer for that, so he did the first thing he could think of. He caught Mason's hand as he turned, jerking their bodies together and crashed his mouth against the other wolf's. It wasn't a fierce kiss, nothing between them had ever been overly brutal, but it was still full of enough raw emotion. Mason's love and Stiles' guilt, both of their anger at how situations had played out.

He dug one hand into his own pocket as the other gripped the back of Mason's head. He smiled and pulled back with Mason moaned, hitting the correct number of speed dial and pressing his phone to his ear as he backed up. He watched Mason's face, watched his eyes refocus again as he blinked a little stupidly.

"See you around Mase," he said, trying desperately to ignore the swell of shock and anger that he could scent on the air from behind him. "Hey Rory, you and the others need to get to Beacon Hills," he said into the phone when his Alpha picked up and he didn't miss the way that Mason practically bolted back to his car, "I've just seen Mason, his brother's in town."


	11. Chapter 11

**All I wanted to say was thank you so much for all of your reviews. I didn't know if I could write anything other than Shameless, so you're all helping me come out of my comfort zone loads. Thank you (: hope you enjoy. . . **

Derek's head hurt. It was as simple as that.

He'd been forcing himself not to listen to Stiles' conversation that was going on with Isaac upstairs, even though he did catch Erica's name in there somewhere and that just added to the confusion. But everything just seemed to go downhill when the Alpha for the other Pack, the Pack that had been trying to take over his territory had arrived. He hadn't spoken to Derek, had just waited and Derek had been able to smell the sudden arousal and pain in the air when Stiles had walked out of the house.

_In nothing but a pair of jeans of all things!_

He'd been pissed for all of five seconds that Stiles was moving to stand in front of him. His wolf had freaked out, wanting to protect Stiles, wanting to get him away from this other Alpha. But they'd both been stunned to silence when Stiles had started speaking. He hadn't wanted to think of how the two knew each other and he'd been distracted from having to at the mention of a Rory.

The only Rory he knew was an Alpha a few territories over. He'd apparently stepped up to the mark since Derek had last seen him, which was well over a decade ago and back when his family had still been alive. Rory was renowned for taking in strays, but he'd always been someone who could be relatively easily overthrown. He'd never been a fighter. Until recently if the rumours that Derek had heard were correct. But then, if those rumours were right, his head Beta did a lot of the fighting for him.

What made Derek's wolf start pacing and snarling inside of his chest though was that as he actually focussed on the conversation that Stiles was having with the other Alpha, he started to realise one thing. Something that was made more obvious by the kiss. The kiss that had Derek's blood boiling and had him shifting to his Beta-form right there where he stood. He didn't even care that his Pack were looking at him weirdly, all he could focus on was the steady thrum of Stiles' heart and the knowledge that he had once been in a relationship with the other Alpha.

Another person had been touching _his_ Stiles. _His_ mate. His wolf didn't like that and to be completely honest neither did Derek. The only saving grace is that the only arousal that Derek can smell is the other Alpha's. Stiles looks smug as he backs away with a phone pressed to his ear, but he doesn't look particularly turned on. It's more like he did that because he could, rather than out of any overwhelming desire to.

And the thing was, he hadn't even realised until then that Stiles was even gay. He wondered if knowing Stiles was gay would have changed anything in the past.

It didn't really register what Stiles was talking about on the phone, or even who he was talking to. He kept trying to focus on the words, but other things kept distracting him, other sounds. Like the sound of Stiles' heartbeat, the sound of Stiles' breathing, the sound of Stiles kicking at the dirt. He kept focusing on the fact that his voice seemed to be lower than it was before, that it carried a confidence rather than what he was actually saying. And he also couldn't help but focus on that mouth, more red than usual and slightly swollen, he couldn't tear his eyes away from it, but he didn't think to notice the words that Stiles' mouth was forming.

"So who the hell is that again?" Cooper one of his new wolves asked; and by new he meant had been turned since Stiles had left. He'd forgotten that not everybody there would know who Stiles was.

"That's Stiles," Lydia was the one to explain, "He used to be Pack when he was human, he's like Derek's kryptonite."

Which was an understatement. Stiles was the one that could get away with anything. Stiles kept pushing Derek's buttons, trying to force a reaction out of him, but not seeming to understand that every single one of his threats as empty. He'd never hurt Stiles, he'd never rip his throat out with his teeth or mar that perfect skin. He just didn't know how to tell Stiles that. He'd never particularly wanted to tell Stiles that, because to be completely honest he was scared.

He was scared of the fact Stiles stood up to him, but also of the way that he cared. When Derek had been shot by hunters – not the first time, but a second – Stiles had stayed with him, brushing gentle touches across his face to soothe him, even when he thought Derek was asleep. _Especially_ when he thought Derek was asleep. He was scared of the fact that Stiles made him feel _anything_, because that had been out of the question when Stiles was human. He could have hurt Stiles, could have ruined and broken him.

He didn't know what to think now that Stiles was a werewolf.

Only a few steps away, Stiles huffed out a breath and hung up the phone, snapping it shut and tucking it into his pocket. He turned back to Derek and gave him a nervous smile that had Derek's heart stuttering a tiny bit in his chest. He didn't miss the way that Stiles frowned ever so slightly at that.

"We were in luck because they were already on their way trying to surprise me or something so they should be here in about an hour," Stiles explained, talking to all of them even though he was looking directly at Derek, "We would like to ask for rights to set up camp on your territory and of course will lend all aid possible to eliminating the threat you have, however we would ask to reserve rights for the kill of Mason's brother due to a longstanding right and we also have a cub in our ranks and therefore would require for at least one of our number to be present with him at all times."

Stiles sounded so formal, like a true Alpha or a head Beta at a Pack negotiation. It was strange and alien to hear those words coming from Stiles' mouth. But that surprise was mingled with the shock as what Stiles was saying clicked into place. What the implications of what Stiles was saying were. He had a Pack, Stiles had a Pack. He was negotiating rights for passage and for a killing, for a cub, _Stiles had a Pack_.

_Stiles wasn't in his Pack_.

Derek felt stupid for not realising that, for not recognising why so many scents clung to Stiles' skin. Thankfully, he wasn't the one who blurted out the question. He wasn't the one who sounded like an idiot and honestly, Scott was so frequently sounding like one anyway that Stiles didn't even bat an eyelid at it. "Wait, what, you have a Pack?"

Casting a sideways glance at the person who had used to be his best friend, Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have a Pack, I have had a Pack for eight years, it's kind of old news to me right now," Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I told them to come straight here, is that alright?"

He was looking at Derek when he said that, but he got the impression that Stiles was trying not to look at him at all.

He nodded numbly, not trusting his voice, because Derek wasn't very often out of control, but he was right then. There was just something about seeing Stiles so serious and so. . . _confident_ that it was ridiculously sexy. And he knew that people could smell his arousal on the air, but right then he didn't care. He didn't care about anything other than the blush that spread across Stiles' cheekbones when he spelt it. Or the fact that that red spread down his neck, highlighting the pale skin of his collarbones.

It was beautiful.

"There are fourteen of us," Stiles said, answering the question that nobody had asked yet, "Four females and one cub."

Derek decided he didn't like the way that Stiles said _us_ and didn't mean them. He was so engrossed in hating that fact that he almost missed Lydia's nosy question of, "So how did you know that Alpha."

Stiles shrugged, settling down with his back against the porch and Isaac instantly moved in and sat next to him, pressing close to Stiles like he had everything that Isaac could ever want. Derek suspected there was some sort of history there, there had to be, but he didn't think it was sexual. The scents that Isaac was giving off were of trust and comfort, nothing connected to lust. Derek didn't miss the way that Stiles' fingers curled around Isaac's forearm without him even having to have to think about it apparently.

"We used to date," Stiles explained, "And then his brother killed my Pack mate Sam and the shit hit the fan, it's really as simple as that."

"How long did you date for?" Allison asked, sitting down next to Stiles cross-legged on the floor. Derek could smell her interest, could smell Lydia's. This was fresh gossip for them and this was _Stiles_. The Stiles who had been a virgin when he'd left and had now returned a confident, apparently experienced, werewolf with a Pack in tow. Derek couldn't quite wrap his head around it, just like he couldn't quite stop himself from thinking about the things that Stiles could do with his mouth that the other Alpha had insinuated.

That thought made Derek jealous and curious all at the same time.

"About a year I think," Stiles said, shrugging like it didn't really matter, "His Pack's what you'd call a roaming one, but they stuck around for that year while we were dating."

"So it was love then," Lydia said and it was a statement not a question.

Derek flinched and thought he was about to puke.

Stiles just snorted. "For him," he replied, "Did you not miss the part where he agreed that he'd called me emotionally stunted?" Derek wondered why Stiles didn't see surprised that someone had called him that.

Something inside of Derek relaxed, but he couldn't bring himself to relax on the ground with Stiles like the rest of the Pack was doing. Even the members who didn't know him.

And then they started asking questions about Stiles' Pack and even Derek was so wrapped up in what Stiles was saying, watching him with such interest that he didn't even hear the roar of a motorbike or smell another wolf until Stiles was on his feet and moving. He literally launched himself at the leather clad figure who stepped away from the bike. The werewolf tipped his head back and laughed as he caught Stiles, both of them going crashing to the ground and not seeming to care in the slightest.

It wasn't until then that the implications of Stiles actually having a Pack clicked in Derek's brain. Inside of his chest, his wolf whined.


	12. Chapter 12

**Um, so I got a review off of an anonymous person. . . (I keep getting those, thank you :D) and they ended the message in RT, I don't know if that narrows it down. But either way, you mentioned something about me writing original stuff, and yes I do write it and I'm always looking for opinions on it and if you're interested (or anyone is interested actually) I posted something earlier on my tumblr, or just drop me an email. Both links are on my profile here (: anyway. . . hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for all the support you guys have been giving me. I'm going to shut up now!**

Stiles didn't even hesitate for a second. He just launched himself at Lee, wrapping himself up in the familiarly comforting scent of Pack and family and _home_. Lee laughed right before they collided and he carried on laughing, his head tipped back and his brilliantly blue eyes ringed with amber slightly. His leather jacket squeaked a little against Stiles' skin and they both crashed to the ground, Stiles' arms tangling around Lee's neck and pulling him in closer.

He licked a stripe up the side of Lee's neck, nuzzling into his skin in a way that was barely contained relief and happiness. It was understandable, because this was Lee, this was _Pack_ and it had been too long since Stiles had last seen him. Since he had last seen any of his Pack. He'd barely been separate from them for eight years and it didn't quite hit Stiles how much he'd craved being near to them again until he saw Lee.

Lee nipped him under the jaw and then tipped his head back, baring his throat in a clear show of submission, but it was also a way of greeting. Stiles was a higher rank, he was head Beta but their Pack never really threw the titles around much. Not like other Packs did.

"Where are the others?" Stiles asked him once they'd dragged themselves back to their feet. He dusted off his jeans and then reached out to brush some dirt off the back of Lee's leather jacket.

"I've told you before, bikes make travelling better," Lee said, rolling his shoulders and looking behind Stiles at Derek's Pack, obviously a little nervous. But the fact Stiles wasn't nervous meant that it calmed his Pack mate down some. "You don't have to worry about traffic jams on a bike."

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but remember the conversation about us being a Pack, not a motorcycle gang?"

Lee just pulled a face at him and then bumped him lightly with his shoulder, transferring his scent in a not-so-subtle way. They both turned to face the rest of Derek's Pack and Stiles didn't miss the way that Lee's gaze instantly zeroed in on Isaac. He looked sideways at Stiles again as if asking permission.

"Isaac, come here a sec," Stiles said, his voice soft to make sure that he knew that it wasn't a command, it was just a request. Nevertheless, Isaac came scurrying over like the ground underneath his feet was on fire. "Isaac, this is Lee, Lee, this is Isaac."

Isaac rocked back on his heels a little awkwardly, obviously not understanding why he was being singled out at all. Normally it would be protocol for Stiles to introduce Lee to Derek first, but then they had never been ones for doing things by the book.

"On behalf of my Pack, I wanted to thank you," Lee said, which made Isaac's eyes widen a little bit and he glanced at Stiles as though checking that this was alright. He obviously wasn't sure if he was supposed to be talking to Lee or something.

Stiles had to resist the urge to laugh just as much as he had to resist the urge to hug the guy.

"You were Stiles' Pack when he needed one," Lee explained when he saw Isaac's frown, dropping the formal tone completely as he tucked his hands into his pockets, his arm still resting against Stiles', "That makes you family in all the ways that count, you ever need anything, just ask us."

And then Lee flashed Isaac a smile that was guaranteed to make hearts melt. To put it bluntly, Lee was gorgeous, tall and blonde with amazingly blue eyes. It was enough to make Stiles jealous if Lee hadn't genuinely been _the_ nicest guy in the world.

"T-Thanks," Isaac stammered out and Stiles couldn't resist it then, he just had to hug the guy. He looked so nervous and panicked standing there that Stiles would rather ram pins into his eyes than spend another minute seeing him like that. Isaac relaxed almost immediately into his hold, nuzzling his face under Stiles' jaw as the tension slid out of his body.

"So I may have talked about our two man wolf Pack," Stiles muttered in his ear, smiling as Isaac's curls tickled his face.

Isaac laughed, his hands gripping Stiles closer a little bit and Stiles thought that maybe he'd always be Isaac's Pack mate. He'd always be Isaac's Alpha just a little bit. Because back before Stiles had left Beacon Hills, he hadn't been oblivious to the fact Isaac would call Stiles before Derek if there was ever a problem. Isaac would come to Stiles first, would always glance at Stiles before relaying information. It was like he'd been quietly seeking his approval and subtly treating him as a higher ranked wolf. It had always made something warm bloom inside Stiles' chest. What he didn't know was what the hell could have caused Stiles to become a surrogate Alpha for Isaac. He didn't know if maybe it had stemmed out of Derek not paying Isaac enough attention, or maybe Isaac had just responded better to calming touches and cradling arms rather than harsh training and violence.

In the end he'd just always decided that he was better off not knowing the answer to that question.

"How much longer to you think they're going to be?" he asked Lee, pulling away from Isaac a little bit and pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his skinny jeans.

"Well Jason was talking about wanting to stop for a McDonalds, so they may have done the drive-thru," Lee admitted, rubbing a hand through his hair, "But all three cars won't have pulled off to do that, so I should think at least Jay and Mona and Callum should be here soon."

"It was the normal seating arrangements then?" he asked, dropping down onto the floor where he'd previously been sitting, not surprised in the slightest when Derek's Pack made room for Lee to sit next to him, eyeing him warily. Isaac just happily plopped down on Stiles' other side, watching everything with wide, eager eyes.

Stiles didn't have the courage to look at Derek.

Normally they travelled in three cars with Lee on his motorbike. Rory, Lucy, Maggie, Martin and more often than not Jason – because the guy could simply be that annoying no matter how much they all loved him – took the van that was all kitted out with a mini fridge and a table in the back. Jay, Callum and Mona took Jay's Impala and then everybody else crammed into the Range Rover.

Of course, that was only for long trips, otherwise everyone just usually paired off and took their own cars. Stiles and Maggie were frequently getting into trouble for taking the truck and re-enacting the scene from Teen Wolf with Michael. which meant that one of them mucked around in the bed of the truck while the other drove. After Rory had told them off for it at least ten times, Stiles had pointed out that at least they weren't doing it on the roof of a van.

"Yeah," Lee nodded, pressing close against Stiles and trying to get his scent to weave in amongst all the other strange ones. Stiles had already decided he was going to do introductions when everyone was here so that he didn't have to do them more than once. "Although Jason was riding with Brady for a while, but then Sax started threatening to tear his head off and in the end Jason just got stuck back in with Rory."

He snorted, "Is he ever going to learn that Sax on long car journeys isn't someone you want to piss off?"

Lee shrugged, "Although I'm sure if you'd been there you could have found a way to calm him down."

Saying nothing, Stiles just flipped him off and _definitely_ didn't look at Derek that time. He could practically feel the other Pack's Alpha tense up and Stiles wasn't even anywhere near him.

"Is Sax your boyfriend?" Lydia asked, nosey as ever and the glint in her eye obviously implied that she was thinking the incident with Mason earlier was a lot more risqué than it had been. Stiles was starting to wish he hadn't done that, he didn't even know why he had done that. Probably habit.

"Nah they just fuck sometimes," Lee said with zero tact whatsoever.

Stiles glared at him, "You know there are some things that you don't have to share."

"Wasn't it you who said that if you don't want it talked about, don't do it in the first place?" Lee asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I said that to Jason after the damn dildo incident," Stiles said, feeling his cheek heat up a little, "Completely different situation and you know I was just looking for an excuse to let us all tease him about it some more."

Lee smirked, no doubt at the memory of that particular incident, which none of them wanted to re-live even if it had been hilarious.

"How many are in your Pack?" Jackson asked and Stiles could tell just by the look on his face that he was thinking more about how this could benefit them in the Pack War they were having against Mason and less about how many new people he was going to have to meet.

"Fourteen," Stiles said, "I already said that to Derek."

Jackson shrugged, "Yeah well I wasn't listening." And that didn't really surprise him in the slightest. Jackson hadn't really changed much he discovered, not in looks and not in personality. Not that Stiles had actually really spoken to him, but that one sentence just proved it all.

"Surprise, surprise," Lydia muttered for him, flashing him a grin that he had never had a hope in hell of getting off of her the last time he was in Beacon Hills. She kept looking at him differently now, was _talking_ to him and it was weird because he didn't completely know how the hell that had happened. He wondered if it was maybe because he was a new shiny thing, or at least an old, reappeared shiny thing that she could play with.

Or maybe there was another reason. He didn't really know.

"So, Lee, what do you do?" Isaac asked when the silence started to settle. Stiles was sort of glad, because even if he didn't settle from ADHD anymore, silence still freaked him out. And he had to say he couldn't help the curl of pride in his stomach that Isaac was relaxing. "Like, as a job I mean?"

"I'm an investment banker," Lee replied, flashing Isaac another one of his killer smiles.

Scott frowned, "You don't look like an investment banker."

"And what the hell is an investment banker supposed to look like, Scott, seriously?" Stiles asked, laughing through his words and curling his hand possessively around Lee's wrist for a second. He didn't know why sometimes he felt the need to succumb to things like that. Why he felt the need to defend members of his Pack over things so stupid and meaningless, things that often weren't even insults or jibes in the first place.

In return, Lee's thumb swiped over his pulse point on his wrist casually and Stiles relaxed. He put it down to the nerves of having Derek Hale staring at him _this entire freakin' time!_

"They're here," Lee said suddenly, looking in the direction of the driveway and not five minutes later, the Impala was pulling in beside Lee's motorcycle and a small figure was jumping out, a wide nervous grin on his face.

Stiles honestly thought it was physically impossible not to grin back.


	13. Chapter 13

Derek watched as the boy, the cub flew at Stiles, landing straight in his arms and unashamedly hugging him. He had to be about nine, possibly ten and Derek could remember being that age and cringing away from hugs his Pack, his _family_ had tried to give him. Of course he regrets that now, but he never could have known that then.

But that cub, he didn't seem to care in the slightest and that made Derek think that maybe it was just something about Stiles. Something about Stiles that had the young and the innocent and anyone in need being drawn to him. This cub. _Isaac_. Isaac just seemed to be drawn in by Stiles and it wasn't even in a sexual way, it was in the way that a heartbroken cub would press close to its Alpha. Just sitting there outside, Isaac couldn't seem to be too far from Stiles, reacting to the new people, to the new situation by leaning in to the person who made him feel safe. And that person wasn't his Alpha, no that person was Stiles.

Stiles had always attracted the needy though. Hell, sometimes Derek thought that was why Stiles attracted him. Derek was broken and shattered in ways that nobody could ever begin to imagine, but there was just something about Stiles. There had always been something about Stiles. His accidental touches burned Derek's skin and even though he flinched away from the touch, snarled in the face of it, it didn't change the fact that that touch thawed something inside of him each and every time. And that scared Derek, scared him more than he would ever want to admit because he didn't know how to imagine a him that wasn't all icy and cold inside. That was out of his comfort zone.

And yet, gradually he'd discovered that Stiles didn't even need to touch him to make the pain of Derek's memories fade away. It was in his smile. In the way that Stiles could make a person feel like they were the only one in the room, the only one he had ever wanted to focus on. The way he did that so effortlessly that it was just his nature. It was beautiful. Stiles was beautiful.

Derek wasn't. Derek was all jagged edges, he was filled up with painful memories and harsh words and he couldn't let himself risk the change of ruining Stiles. He didn't want to ruin Stiles' beauty. He couldn't bring himself to. And yet he also had never been able to completely tear himself away.

He had always felt selfish and wrong when he witnessed Stiles' smiles, when he'd bottled them up inside of himself, inside of his memories. He'd always felt like he was defiling something sacred, marring perfection; but that didn't mean he could help himself.

So this time, like all the other times, Derek watched from afar as Stiles lifted the cub far too effortlessly for a human. Yet another reminder that something about Stiles wasn't so innocent or fragile anymore. A reminder that maybe Stiles had some jagged edges now too. The cub laughed and there hadn't been laughter like that in the Hale house for years. Not since Stiles. Derek couldn't explain why; because people laughed, his Pack still laughed, but not like that. Not completely careless and without abandon, not with their eyes shining and complete joy and carelessness written all over their features.

Stiles' Pack – _God how Derek hated thinking that! _– stood a little off to the side watching and Derek didn't miss the way that they looked at Stiles like he was in charge. Like he was higher ranking. And maybe he was. Something about that made sense, because there had never been anything about Stiles that had been submissive. Even when he had cowered under Derek's threats, he had never submitted. He had never bared his throat, not once. And now, now there was just something about seeing Stiles as a werewolf that made Derek think that Stiles made an amazing werewolf. What Derek didn't want to think about was that Head Beta, the one people talked about. He didn't want to think of the possibility of Stiles bearing his throat for him.

Just like Derek didn't want to meet this guy Sax, the one that Stiles fucked. It made him feel sick and see red and it made him want to tear his own eyeballs out just to see if maybe that would help.

Once Stiles had finally set the cub down, even though it still stuck close, out of instinct no doubt now that it was on foreign territory, the other two newcomers pressed forwards. They both curled their limbs against Stiles' body as one, instinctively, marking him with their scent. The woman was obviously the cub's mother judging by the blatant similarity between them was anything to go by. Both were fair skinned and dark haired with high almost regal looking cheek-bones. They practically looked feline, but they acted and smelt like wolves.

The male was shorter and stocky, build a lot like Boyd with just a lot less height. He was all smiles, but there was something wary in his eyes that made it clear he would defend his Pack mates without hesitation. His eyes kept fixing on the cub, checking it wasn't in danger and Derek could understand that. There was a reason that Lexie was inside with Allison and hadn't come out.

He thought it said a lot though that they were even coming onto Derek's territory with a cub. He thought that must mean that they were confident about their fighting skills and he had to admit that if the rumours were true, then that confidence was well earned.

Proof of Stiles' dominant position was shown in how he ducked in an lapped at both of the newcomers' throats, quick and almost needy as he tasted their flesh before he nuzzled against their throats, scenting them. The sight made Derek's teeth ache because it made him realise just how close this Pack were. They hadn't been apart for long that much was obvious and yet they were greeting Stiles like his Pack should have greeted him. They were greeting him like it had been years not days and that dependence, that need made it clear how tightly the bond was woven around them all.

They were family and Derek felt jealous not just because he could admit his Pack wasn't that close – they were close, he wasn't saying they weren't, because they definitely were, but Stiles' Pack was on a whole other level – but also because he wanted to have that right. He wanted to be able to be so close to Stiles without having to be ashamed of anything. He wanted to be that comfortable with him and for Stiles to be that comfortable in return.

The one who had arrived on the bike, Lee, he stood after the other two finally detached themselves from Stiles. Lee was actually surprising in that he had seemed perfectly content in remaining apart from his Pack, remaining with Derek's Pack while Stiles was greeted. Derek didn't miss the almost protective glances that Lee was giving Isaac; nor did he miss the way that Isaac was instantly the one that was instantly introduced first. He was thanked and welcomed practically like he was in their Pack and that unsettled Derek.

That phrase from before that Stiles had whispered, _"Two man wolf Pack,"_ he didn't know why that made him angry. He thought maybe it was because he didn't understand it. Isaac was in his Pack, Stiles had been in his Pack, there had been more than two of them. And yet Stiles had insisted that he had never been a part of Derek's Pack and Isaac had never even looked like he had wanted to dispute that. In fact, he looked like he agreed. Which was stupid, because of _course_ Stiles had been Pack. He'd come to all the Pack meetings, hung out on Pack nights, so Derek didn't know how he could say that he wasn't Pack.

He made a mental note to ask Isaac about it later, because he knew for a fact that Stiles wouldn't give him a straight answer. It annoyed him how he knew that without a doubt for certain.

The female was the first one who actually acknowledged Derek, something that was strange and sort of weird considering the first thing that wolves should do was acknowledge an Alpha, whether or not he was their Alpha specifically. But none of them had, they'd done nothing more than glance at him in passing. This female though, she just outright stared at him until he started to feel uncomfortable, especially when he got the feeling that she was assessing him or something.

Derek wondered what that meant.

"Oh by the way guys, there's something I think you should know," Stiles muttered and then obviously typed out what that thing was if the way that all of the wolves checked their phones instantly.

Lee's eyes widened a little when he read whatever it was that it said on the text and he stared at Stiles, "Dude, you're going to want to tell Maggie that, I think she's in the process of sharpening her claws on the way here."

"Shit," Stiles muttered under her breath and then he was rattling off a rapid-fire text, obviously to think girl Maggie and Derek was left even more confused than ever.

"Are you Derek?"

He hadn't been aware of the fact that the cub was in front of him before it actually spoke. He blinked down at it, amazed that its mother had let it come so close to him, but then even Derek wasn't going to bite the head off of a cub. Cubs were precious, they were to be protected, his parents had taught him that.

"Um, yes," he replied, since he obviously couldn't lie and he didn't see the harm in admitting that.

He could smell the cub's annoyance almost immediately. "Why don't you love Stiles?" the cub asked in a brutally blunt way that only kids could really ever master.

Derek only just had time to register what the hell he'd just heard before Stiles' panic hit him in waves and he was lurching forwards, grabbing the cub around the waist and shaking him a little as he pulled him away. "What the hell is wrong with you guys and sharing information _you're not supposed to share!_" Stiles hissed at him, but his face softened almost immediately when the cub pouted.

And Derek didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but it obviously meant that Stiles had been talking about him a little bit at least. Either way, whether or not it was a good thing, Derek still found himself smiling for the first time in a while.


	14. Chapter 14

When she arrived, she literally _sauntered_ up to Stiles. Her hips swayed in a way that was blatantly as hot as fuck even if Stiles didn't swing that way anymore. She smiled and it lit up her entire face. Maggie was beautiful, there was never any doubting that. Her Irish heritage had landed her with dark red hair that tumbled down over her shoulders in ringlet curls, emerald eyes and ridiculously creamy skin. She was flawless, until she opened her mouth or she drank whiskey, but hey, having flaws made you human.

She flung herself at him as soon as she got close enough, her arms wrapping around his neck and her legs going around his waist. He could feel her eight inch heels digging into his ass through his jeans, but he was glad she hadn't trodden on his foot as of yet. Normally that was always the first thing that happened when she wore shoes like that. Stiles was just lucky it seemed.

"I missed you asshat," her voice was practically a low whine in his ear, even though he knew for a fact that she was dent that description later if he brought it up.

"Well that's just rude," he muttered back, licking a wet stripe up her neck. Maggie squirmed against him and it was pretty clear that she wasn't going to let him go anytime soon. He was saved from having to try and detach himself though when they were both rugby tackled to the ground.

Stiles snarled low in his throat with annoyance, but that quickly dissipated when Jason nuzzled up against his side, a pitiful expression on his face. Sax appeared on his other side and lapped at his cheek for a second like he always did, smirking. After that everyone just seemed to join in, leaping on and touching him in some way, creating one large puppy pile. Even Lucy wriggled her way in there, but it was the way Rory knelt by his head, resting it on his legs when he knelt down, that was the bit that meant the most.

Stiles didn't bare his throat, he refused to ever do that, even for his Alpha, but Rory had never minded. He just nuzzled at Stiles' cheek and bumped their noses awkwardly together like they were wolves and then straightened up. Stiles knew that his Alpha was following actual etiquette and going over to greet Derek, but he didn't particularly want to focus on however that conversation was going down and even if he had wanted to, he was more distracted by the fact his chest was now damp.

"Jason, I swear to God, if you're intentionally drooling on me, I'll kill you," he growled out, knowing he was at least a little bit right when Jason yelped and tried to roll himself out from the middle of the puppy pile, essentially bringing the entire thing crashing down.

Everyone took their own time standing and Stiles didn't know whether or not to be surprised about the fact that the only person left curled against his side was Isaac. He hadn't even known the guy had joined in and he was starting to think that maybe Isaac had developed some sort of separation issue. Stiles couldn't exactly blame him given the way he'd left.

"Who the hell is he?"

Of course it was Jason who had to ask that question and Stiles was glad for his best friend in that moment, because she didn't even hesitate to pin Jason to the floor after landing an easy kick to the back of his knees. "That's Isaac, fuckwit," she snarled out, "So be polite or I'll turn you into a fur-skin rug, comprendé?"

Jason bared his throat to her even as he grumbled.

"I mean it, Jase, seriously," she growled out through her teeth, "Fucking behave or I swear to God wolfsbane is going into your underwear drawer."

"You already used that threat this week," Stiles helpfully reminded her, because he was a good friend like that. He kind of regretted it when she landed on his chest, a knee either side of him, one jammed up in between his body and Isaac's.

"Shut up Stiliniski, I'm already mad at you," she told him, her eyes narrowing little and she put her palms flat on the ground either side of his head and leant in closer. It could have looked romantic, but more than anything it was just threatening. "You _know_ she was a lying bitch, so why the fuck haven't you gotten your act together yet?"

And of course, _of course_ that would have gotten back to her already.

"Because things really aren't that simple darling," he replied, smiling a little cockily before flipping them, slamming her into the ground and trapping her against the floor. She actually resorted to pouting at him when she realised she couldn't move. "Besides, what makes you think I haven't?"

She just gave him a stern look at that one, because they both knew he hadn't.

"Let her up Stiles and do the introductions," Rory said, his voice compelling Stiles to stand, but that didn't mean he had to leap to attention straight away. He knew from experience with Derek's Pack the last time he'd been in Beacon Hills that most of the time wolves had a habit of feeling to need to fulfil their Alpha's requests immediately and to the exact point. Stiles, not so much.

Nevertheless, he did eventually get to his feet, pulling Maggie up with him and pressing up against Isaac's side before the other wolf could close the distance himself. The rewarding grin he got was worth the strange looks Derek's Pack were giving him, Scott and Jackson in particular.

It really didn't bother him that they hadn't known about him and Isaac being friends. If any of them had stopped to think about it they would have been able to work it out. Such as all the Pack nights or outings that Stiles wasn't invited to, Isaac always skipped them to keep him company. If they'd stopped to think about it, they would have realised that happened every single time Stiles wasn't invited – which to be honest had been the majority of the time – but even though he was Pack, like Stiles, Isaac had always been somewhat overlooked. Hence, the two man wolf Pack had been born.

He introduced Isaac first just to follow the trend that he'd started and didn't miss the way that Lee seemed to be moving a little bit closer, like he was trying to stake a claim or something. It made Stiles smirk, but he focussed on the task at hand, first naming all of Derek's Pack that he knew and then giving bizarre nicknames to the ones he didn't just to make people chuckle under their breath and then he moved on to introducing his own Pack. His own family.

He had to stop half way through though when Derek snarled at the mention of Sax's name.

-000-

"And this is Sax."

Derek couldn't help the way that his lips drew back over his teeth and he growled ever so slightly. It was gut reaction. That wolf had had something of his. Eyes flickered in his direction, but most slid away pretty quickly. All except for one pair. It was the girl, the redhead, Maggie, she stared him down with a viciousness that could have rivalled Lydia. Even Stiles had looked away pretty quickly, with a look that Derek couldn't quite decipher on his face.

He'd stopped introducing people though, so he was obviously more flustered by the growl that he was showing.

"What?" he snapped finally when he was fed up of her just staring at him.

"Don't growl at him?" she said, her voice firm and he could practically taste her anger as it pulsated around her. He decided it must be something to do with redheaded females, their anger just had the ability to be off the charts.

He frowned, "Excuse me?"

"I said, don't growl at him," she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest, "Or have you been celibate these last nine years?"

She was catching him out so obviously, not seeming to have any problem giving a reason to exactly why he was growling. The way she was staring at him as well was practically daring him not to answer her and Derek may have been an Alpha, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew when to pick his battles.

"No," he admitted eventually.

The female snorted, "Precisely, so shut the fuck up."

And then with that, she just turned back to her Pack and ignored him completely. Derek scowled. He hadn't quite decided if he liked Stiles Pack yet or not. They were ballsy, even the youngest one, but there was a sense of comradship and protectiveness that made him almost envy them. He could remember a time when he'd had that, back when he'd been a child, with his own family. It was different now with a Pack full of the Turned.

It had been weird seeing Rory again, because the guy hadn't changed in the slightest, but there had been a hint of a threat, or maybe it was distaste in the way he'd looked at Derek this time. And Derek couldn't help but think that maybe it had something to do with Stiles. His entire Pack kept casting glances at him and to say it made him uncomfortable was putting it lightly.

"So this is great and everything, but can we like eat before the food's stone cold?" the guy Jason who Maggie had threatened over Isaac asked, nudging the woman next to him. He couldn't remember her name, but he thought maybe it was Tina.

Names weren't Derek's strong point, but then he supposed he didn't necessarily have to learn all of their names. As long as he remembered Rory and Lucy's he'd be alright. He hadn't actually met Lucy before, but he could practically taste the power rolling off of her. She was one to keep an eye on, because she had that sort of look that said, 'I'll smile to your face and then stab you while you sleep.'

Surprisingly, it was Stiles who slapped Jason around the back of the head, but the food was brought out anyway. They'd brought a lot, no doubt enough to compensate if Derek's Pack wanted any food, but as far as he was concerned it was a little early to be eating that kind of crap.

As usual the Alpha and his Alpha female, so Rory and Lucy, picked first and then sat cross-legged facing each other, their knees touching and their food jammed between the spaces in their folded legs. Then the pup moved forwards and grabbed the Happy Meal, flashing Stiles an evil sort of grin and if he was being honest, Derek was expecting either Maggie or the guy Lee to be the next one to select food. The head Beta always selected after the Alphas and after the cubs if there were any and Derek would have been lying if he said that he wasn't interested to see which one of the Pack was this infamous Beta.

He thought it could possibly be any of the, except maybe the idiot Jason.

Which was why his mouth fell open when Stiles jumped up with a gleeful look on his face to snag a bag of food, throwing himself back down onto the floor and proceeding to offer Isaac a fry. That was something that just didn't make sense in Derek's mind. Stiles killing or Stiles being violent wasn't something his mind could compute. Although it would explain the blood around his mouth when he'd brought Isaac back. If he was being honest, the image Derek had in his head of a badass Stiles was really kind of hot.

He was sure from some of the looks that people gave him that he wasn't exactly being subtle about his arousal either. But they could just suck it up, this was his territory anyway.


	15. Chapter 15

**So, I know I haven't updated very quickly (yes, not updating for a single day means I've been lagging in my books) but I've been focussing on Shameless a little bit. I'll try and update as much as possible, but either way, enjoy. . . **

Almost as soon as they'd finished talking, Stiles started barking out orders. He sent four off into the woods, telling them to make sure they stuck in pairs and do a perimeter check, see if they could find out how many wolves they were talking about here at the same time. He then went about instructing the rest of them to set up the one large tent they'd brought with them, not-so-subtly looming over the annoying one, Jason, the entire time.

Rory must have caught the surprised look on his face, because he laughed as he walked over, nodding in Stiles' direction, "Just because I have the fangs, doesn't mean I'm the boss." And Derek could see that, he could definitely see that. Stiles looked completely in his element, casually holding Jason in a headlock while he carried on giving out instructions.

Stiles seemed different now that he was surrounded by all of his Pack. More confident, more at home. The easy way he was smiling and laughing made something inside of Derek ache. He looked like a piece of a puzzle that he seamlessly slipped into place with this Pack and Derek couldn't help but crave Stiles having that sort of relationship with his Pack. He wanted Stiles to feel that at home with him.

"He'd drop the hostility if you just told him," Rory said in a low voice, low enough that Stiles couldn't hear them. Stiles who was now having a swordfight using two of the tent poles with the guy he'd previously had in a headlock. But then, Derek knew that that was just how Pack was. They could fight all they liked, but that didn't stop them being bonded together. Fighting didn't mean hatred, it still allowed for closeness.

"What?" Derek could feel his features mashing up into a frown that no doubt also doubled up as a scowl.

Rory smirked, "If you just told him how you feel." Because apparently it was just that simple.

He cornered Isaac the minute that the guy actually managed to detach himself from Stiles' side. "We're just going to go for a little ride," he said, dragging Isaac into the Camaro by his arm and trying to ignore the panicked expression on his face. Sometimes he forgot how easy it was to spook Isaac, but he didn't have the time to stop and feel guilty about it right then.

"Talk," he said a soon as they were far enough away that none from either Pack could overhear them.

Isaac's eyes widened briefly before he stammered out, "T-talk, a-about what, I d-don't know a-anything."

Derek seriously had a hard time resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Why does Stiles think he was never Pack?" he asked, just saying the words making him want to throw up. Inside of his chest, his wolf was snarling at the prospect of Stiles not being Pack. He was Stiles, he was _mate_, how the hell could he ever not have been Pack?

"Because nobody ever treated him like he was," Isaac said, like it was obvious, "They never included him in anything because they didn't think he was Pack or something. I don't know, but he was never given a reason to think that he was Pack."

Derek frowned, "What do you mean '_they never included him in anything'_?"

From the look on Isaac's face, this should have all been obvious to him at the time and it made Derek feel a little stupid for apparently not seeing something that was happening right in front of his eyes. But then it also made him as pissed as hell to think about Stiles being pushed out to the edge and made to feel like he wasn't Pack.

"When they went out to do stuff as a Pack, like have a movie night or go to the beach or something, they'd never ask him along," Isaac explained, scratching the back of his neck, "So just me and him used to hang out. I was the only one that even ever talked to him at lunch, it was like he wasn't even there. He'd say something and he'd just be overlooked."

Isaac shrugged, not seeming able to think of any other way to explain it and Derek was starting to see that maybe it did make sense after all. He couldn't imagine Stiles just sitting there and being ignored, because the boy had always been so full of life and had always had so much to say, but if he had been, Derek couldn't even really find it in him to blame Stiles for leaving.

Even if he wanted to.

"Do you know why?" he asked, because he had to know. He had to know if there was more to it, if there had been something that Derek had done personally. If there had been any mistake on Derek's part that had pushed Stiles away. Had he ever said anything to the Pack that had implied that Stiles wasn't welcome? That Stiles wasn't Pack? "Do you know why they did that?"

Isaac tilted his head to the side briefly and looked like he wanted to shrug the question off, but he didn't. "I think it had something to do with Erica," he admitted. And that, that right there made perfect sense. _Erica_.

She'd always been bordering on insane and it had been his greatest mistake as Alpha to turn her. He hadn't thought it would turn out that bad. He hadn't thought that she would be that power hungry, that she would be convinced that a few kisses made him hers. And yet, the entire time he'd been sure that she'd known who he'd really belonged to. He'd been sure she'd seen the looks he gave Stiles. The looks she'd wanted for herself. And that was why he'd understood her insistence that they were mates even less.

Derek had a mate. He'd just never thought his mate wanted him, except. . . "He loved you, you know," Isaac said, not looking at him, but instead staring out of the window. Like he wasn't sure he was supposed to be saying that, but knew he couldn't very well swallow the words back. "I think that's the only reason he stuck around as long as he did."

And those words, those simple words that Isaac probably hadn't even meant to say, definitely hadn't meant to mean so much, they made his wolf whine and preen all at the same time inside of his chest. Those words made the both of them hope.

He waited until that night, until after they'd all eaten and people were sitting around the camp fire that someone had lit and Jason and Scott were bonding over whether or not it would hurt to toast marshmallows on their claws. He waited until Stiles clambered to his feet, sliding out with surprising grace from under a heap of his Pack mates and Isaac and mumbling something about needing to pee.

He followed and caught Stiles' arm just as he headed into the house, pushing him up against the wall and pressing his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Stiles' scent and chuckling when Stiles yelped.

"D-Derek, what the hell are you doing?"

He kind of liked the fact that he could still get Stiles flustered. He hadn't seen any hint of the old Stiles since he'd arrived, not really. Especially not now that his Pack was here. And right then Derek sort of wanted to step back, point and shout, "There he is!" He didn't, but that didn't mean that he didn't consider it.

"Smelling you," he replied like it was obvious.

He knew without having to look that Stiles was frowning. "Yeah," he said, inhaling sharply when Derek flicked his tongue out to lap over Stiles' pulse point, "But w-why?"

Derek ran his nose up the side of Stiles' neck, not missing the way that Stiles hesitated for a second before tilting his head to the side, baring his throat to Derek. And he wanted to howl in triumph, because he hadn't seen Stiles submit to anyone. Not even to his Alpha. This Stiles that he'd been seeing was dominant and in control, it wasn't the Stiles he knew. The Stiles who seemed to be melting underneath his touch, the Stiles who was whining low in the back of his throat and had hands pressed against his chest but not pushing him away, _this was his Stiles._

Although, he would admit that bossy and confident Stiles did turn him on.

"Because I want to," Derek replied, sucking briefly at a patch of skin under Stiles' jaw and pulling back just enough to see the mark fade away almost instantly. Stiles moaned and it was like music to his ears. "Because I missed you," he continued, heeding Rory's advice. He pulled back and stared at Stiles, took in the way that he had his head tipped back, his lips parted slightly and his breath coming out in short little pants. His eyes were wide and almost glassy looking and Derek thought he looked fucking beautiful. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. He wanted to kiss that amazing mouth, wanted to taste Stiles, to own him. But he didn't.

Not yet.

He ran a thumb over Stiles' cheekbone, watching as his eyes slid closed a fraction. "Because I wish you'd never left me," he admitted and ducked in to nose at Stiles' neck again before tearing himself away completely. His wolf howled at the loss of contact and Derek's skin felt like it was burning and even though he wanted to look back, wanted to see if he was affecting Stiles as badly as the guy was affecting Derek. But he didn't.

Even if he wanted to, he didn't.


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, so I know this is only a tiny chapter, but I wrote it right as I was about to switch my laptop off and actually get some sleep. Figured I'll post it. Consider it a cliff-hanger, even though you all know what's going to happen :D sort of. Enjoy. . . **

_**U hrd all tht, didnt u?**_

Maggie just rolled her eyes at the fact that Stiles was texted her while sitting right next to her.

_**Of course, dumbass. And what have I told you about using actual grammar in a text?**_

Stiles refused to look at her, just kept on staring into the fire and trying not to think about the fact that if he listened hard enough, if he concentrated, he could hard Derek upstairs in his bedroom.

_**So what do you think I should do?**_

Out of the corner of her eye, he saw Maggie shoot him an incredulous look. Like it should have been obvious. He should have expected her reply.

_**Um… how about you go get laid! Jesus, Stiles, you've been waiting for this guy for fucking ages. Just stop being a pussy and get him. **_

Her second text came almost immediately after the first.

_**Besides, you could die tomorrow, you never know.**_

Stiles snorted and glared at her, but he got up nevertheless, because he thought maybe she was right. He had been waiting too long for this. And at the very least, he wanted to get some answers. Because who the hell just said something like that and then walked away?

How the hell could Derek think that saying something like that and then walking away was even remotely alright? Maybe if Stiles had been expecting those words at all, it would have been. But he hadn't. Hearing Derek saying he missed him and had wished he'd never left was practically wet dream material for Stiles' soppy, romantic heart.

But more than anything, _he'd bared his neck to the guy!_

Stiles had steadfastly refused to show any sign of weakness to anyone by baring his neck to them. Derek got into his personal space just once, for barely even two minutes and he was whimpering like a bitch and practically screaming, _submissive_.

Except no, no that wasn't going to happen. Stiles didn't care if he was submissive to Derek. He didn't give a shit. He was still going to be confident, he was going to be in control and sure of himself and even if this did just turn out to be a complete joke in the morning he was going to make sure that it was the best goddamn mistake that Derek had ever made.

And it was too late to change his mind anyway, because he was already curling his fingers around the door handle to Derek's room, the pure overwhelming scent of _Derek _threatening to reach through the wood and choke him. No, Stiles wasn't turning back. He wasn't the same person he'd used to be. He wasn't scared of Derek anymore.

_He could do this_. _He was sure. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Yeah so. . . don't hate me. . . **

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?"

He honest to God jumped a mile when Scott appeared at the end of the hallway. He hadn't been expecting to see anyone in the house, but he should have known that they had been. He had sort of forgotten that Derek's Pack would be sleeping _inside_ the house, concentrating mainly on not having his own Pack waltz up here and freak him out.

There was a reason that he permanently kept half an ear on Jason's heartbeat, tracking his whereabouts.

"Um. . ." he didn't exactly know the answer to that, because announcing that he was following Maggie's orders and maybe getting laid didn't sound all that good. So he just shrugged. "It doesn't matter, what's up dude?"

He didn't know what it was about Beacon Hills that made him feel like he was being knocked back several years. All the progress he'd made with not being a complete rambling idiot seemed to be permanently ruined now that he'd stepped foot in this town again. He wondered if maybe there was something in the water or maybe it was just the people. Something in him was probably just reacting to being close to them again. It was turning him into the person he'd used to be just a little bit.

"I just. . ." Scott frowned and Stiles had to admit that it did make him feel more than a little bit better that he wasn't the only one who seemed to be at a loss. He suspected maybe that there was just something about nine years of being apart that caused that. An inevitability. Stiles didn't think that it was in any way strange for him to feel regretful about that. Scott had been his best friend, they'd had each other's backs, or at least they had until Scott had become a werewolf and after that it had pretty much become a one-sided relationship.

"If you wanted to become a werewolf, you didn't have to leave," Scott blabbed out, looking down at the ground like he was afraid of what Stiles' answer to that statement was going to be. Except, for once, Scott was taking a leaf out of Stiles' book and was talking again before he even had a chance to open his mouth. "I mean, I thought you'd left because you were fed up of being around werewolves, but you _asked for this_, you asked for the bite, so it doesn't make sense. And I mean, I get that maybe Derek and you don't always see eye to eye, but he isn't a bad Alpha really and you didn't have to leave just because you wanted the bite."

And all of that, every single bit of that was so far from the truth that Stiles couldn't help the bark of laughter that bubbled up out of his throat, escaping before he could clamp down on it. Scott's eyes shot up in alarm and Stiles thought for a second that maybe he should feel a little ashamed, because there was red colouring Scott's cheeks now and he looked nervous. But he didn't look away, he didn't back down. He just met Scott's eyes and took a deep breath, because he knew he should have explained this. He _knew_ it wasn't obvious.

But that didn't make actually doing so any easier.

"That's not it at all," he replied, fighting to keep his voice and heart rate level, because he was all too aware that Derek was right on the other side of the door and he also knew that the guy wasn't asleep, "That's not why I left, I didn't plan any of this, I didn't plan to become a werewolf, I just met Maggie and it happened."

Scott scowled. "You shouldn't have left," he said stubbornly and Stiles wasn't at all surprised, because as much as he loved the guy, Scott had never been the sharpest tool in the shed and he knew there were just some things that Scott would never really understand. Stiles leaving was no doubt one of those things.

"I had to."

"No you didn't," Scott practically spat at him, eyes flashing and his expression twisted up in anger, "You didn't have to leave and you didn't have to get bitten, because honestly Stiles, what the hell were you thinking? How could you become a werewolf?"

And then it was Stiles' turn to scowl, because that had always annoyed him. Scott had always taken a gift and seen it as a curse. He'd always seen being a werewolf as the end of all things, had sought a cure and had never understood why anyone would _ask_ for this. But Stiles, Stiles understood it all completely.

"Because I think I was born to be this," he replied honestly, knowing that both Scott and Derek could hear his heartbeat verifying that his words rang true, "This person, this is me. I'm a werewolf and I fucking love it. I love the freedom and the power and the pull of the moon on my wolf. I love every single thing about it, but that wasn't the reason I asked for it. I didn't know it was going to be like this, I asked for it because I was fed up of being the one on the side-lines."

He stepped up to Scott, the picture of calm, but he could feel the old anger, the old resentment burning just below the surface. "I wanted to be included, I wanted to be part of a Pack, to be a part of a family," he didn't like the look on Scott's face when he spoke, but he knew that he had to get this out, "And no, I didn't have that here. I had a Dad who was so wrapped up in work that he was never home and I had a best friend that couldn't pull his head out of his girlfriend's ass long enough to see that I was drowning under the weight of everything in my life. You and my Dad were _all I had_ and it wasn't enough. I wasn't Pack, I wasn't family and it felt like it was choking the life out of me because I didn't know how to be included in that."

He felt some sick sort of justice when Scott looked away first, when he cowered slightly under the force of Stiles' bitterness, under the weight of all of his old pain. Because it was still there, of course it was. It had never gone. And it had only ever made it worse that Scott hadn't even done any of it on purpose. It would probably have been easier if he'd simply woken up one day and though, "I'm going to push Stiles away today", but instead he'd done it intentionally and it had eaten Stiles up inside feeling like he was just something that could be pushed onto the wayside so easily.

"I moved away and I found people who wanted me around," he explained, calming his voice now, keeping it even because none of this was really Scott's fault even if it felt like it sometimes. He wanted Scott to understand. He didn't want to blame him. Or at least not completely. "I found Maggie and Rory and even Jason who on most days I could tell you some pretty inventive ways I'd like to murder him. And they, they wanted me around for me. They didn't care that I was human or that I was good at research. They asked me out to do stuff, just because they liked having me around. There was no obligation, no necessity and nothing making them do it, but they took me in, made me family, _made me Pack_ and that's more than this town has ever done for me."

And there it was, that brutal honesty. The facts, all laid out on the table for everyone to see. It felt strange, because Stiles had been hiding things from Scott ever since they had become friends. He'd hidden what he didn't think Scott could deal with, what he wouldn't understand. He'd dampened things down, softened threats and cut back on harsh truths. He'd essentially mollycoddled the guy, because he knew it wasn't Scott's fault he could be a bit dense. It was just the way that he was.

But that didn't stop the secrets from chipping away at pieces of Stiles, didn't stop them from robbing pieces of him and making him feel so incomplete. So broken.

"I didn't–"

"I know," he said immediately when Scott cut off, "You didn't mean to, I know, but it still happened."

Nothing would have stopped him from leaving. He always would have done it. There had always been something in him driving him to do it, Erica had just given him that extra needed push that had been necessary to start the ball rolling. And God how he hated her for it, for making him finally shatter inside, but he also kind of wanted to thank her. In some stupid inexplicable way, Stiles wanted to thank her for forcing him away because he would still be broken otherwise and right then, Stiles felt more whole than he ever had been in a long time. Not quite complete, but definitely getting there.

He escaped into Derek's room before Scott could say anything else. He was too terrified to hear what Scott had to say and he wasn't ashamed to admit that even if he didn't completely know why he was afraid. He knew that Scott wouldn't follow him into the Alpha's bedroom, knew that he'd walk away and sure enough a few minutes later that was exactly what Scott did.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he fell back against the door, his eyes dropping closed and just stayed there for a minute, focussing on his own heartbeat so that he didn't have to pay attention to the one thundering across the room.

He only opened his eyes when the scent of salt reached his nose, was drawn into his lungs with a shaky breath. He stared at Derek, eyes blown wide and even without supernatural vision he would have been able to see the tear tracks glistening down Derek's face. He was staring at Stiles, completely unashamedly, but looking so broken that it would have been impossible for Stiles not to go to him.

Derek seemed to fold inwards at his touch, reacted almost like Isaac would when he curled around him, resting his head against the curve of Stiles' neck and pressing almost impossibly close. It didn't even feel like there was air left between them, Derek's fingers digging into his hipbone as he pulled them together. He instinctively wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, trying desperately not to think about the fact that the guy was only wearing boxers.

He knew because somehow he'd managed to slid in under the covers, some of them twisted up around one of his legs. He hugged Derek closer than he ever thought could have been possible and even then he kept waiting for the rejection, kept waiting for Derek to suddenly come to his senses and push him off.

"I'm sorry," Derek whispered, his face pressed into Stiles' collarbone, his arms wrapped tight around Stiles' middle. It felt strange, unnatural to be the one that comforted Derek because that just wasn't the image he had of the guy in his head. He hadn't even been completely sure that he had tear ducts and it didn't make him feel any better now that he did know for sure.

"I know," Stiles muttered back, tightening his grip on Derek's shoulders, digging his fingers into flesh just to prove that this was really happening. Just the ground himself. "I know," and he was surprised that he did, because he wasn't entirely sure of what he was forgiving Derek for. But he thought that maybe that didn't matter all that much.

He stroked his fingers over smooth, hot flesh, rubbing circles into Derek's skin and tracing patterns that seemed to be engraved onto both of their souls. He could feel the scratch of Derek's stubble against his neck and the wetness of tears soaking into his shirt. He could feel soft hair against his cheek and air puffing across his skin. He could feel it all, memorised every part of it because this wasn't how he'd expected this to go down, but he wouldn't change the way it had. Not for anything. He wanted to remember this, to remember the way that Derek's heartbeat thudded in his ears, private and so completely his, just for that moment.

He didn't even want to breathe for fear of shattering whatever it was that was lying between them, whatever was hovering unsaid and yet what was being screamed with every brush of Derek's thumb against Stiles' ribcage. He didn't know when Derek had slipped his hands up under his shirt, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The press of palms against his flesh made him want to squirm, but it made him feel so completely relaxed it was practically alien.

"I know," he mumbled one last time into Derek's hair when he felt the older werewolf's breaths even out, his heartbeat steady and sure as he fell asleep. Stiles shut his eyes and wrapped the scent of Derek around him like a comfort blanket, his wolf sinking its fangs into that feeling like that would help them cling on longer than they were allowed.

Like that would stop the inevitable.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry this is a bit of a late update, but my internet is being pissy and I was meant to put it up last night, but it wouldn't let me. Either way, here is finally is. . . **

Derek woke up to find flesh hot under his hands and a body curled up around his, practically tangled with his. Their legs were knotted together and Stiles had an arm thrown around Derek's middle and his cheek against Derek's neck. They were facing each other, except Derek was maybe sort of lying half on Stiles and Stiles was turned a little bit onto his back, his hips still facing Derek's direction. For a long minute or so, or maybe it had been a lifetime he couldn't be sure, Derek just pressed his fingers against warm, smooth flesh and savoured the scent of Stiles intermingling with his own.

He could hear that Stiles was awake, but he still snuffled against Derek's shoulder like he wasn't and for some reason that was all it took for the tension to literally drain out of Derek's body. Rejection had always been his biggest fear when it came to Stiles, because he'd put it all out there before and his whole family had been burned alive. Except, this was Stiles, this was _mate_ his wolf always kept reminding him and so in a way, that just made everything alright again.

He just had to get Stiles to realise that was all. He thought it would probably be an easier task to do now that Stiles was a werewolf and could smell and feel for himself what Derek was feeling. Maybe. He never knew when it came to Stiles, he could be unpredictable.

And the Stiles that had seemed to pop up out of nowhere was someone that he understood even less. Except, he thought maybe that the person tapping a pattern out against the bumps of his spine while still attempting to pretend he was asleep, was a lot more like the Stiles he knew that he'd realised.

"I know you're awake," he pointed out eventually, his voice scratchy from sleep.

Even though he couldn't see it, he knew that Stiles was pouting. "Darn it," he muttered, sounding more put out than was really necessary, but _hey_, it was Stiles after all, "No fooling the big bad wolf." And of course, Derek refrained from pointing out that Stiles was a wolf now too. He did snort though.

"Can we pretend I'm not awake?" Stiles asked in a low, practically conspiratorial voice, "Because I don't want to get up yet."

Derek desperately tried not to read anything into that confession. "Did I say anything about getting up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow even though Stiles wasn't looking at him. Stiles now had his face pressed fully against Derek's neck and Derek could feel Stiles' hair tickling his cheek.

"I like your hair longer," he said randomly, reaching up with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Stiles' back and carding his fingers through the strands. He hadn't given Stiles' hair much thought before, not until he was confronted with it like this. Although he'd hardly call it confronted, but Derek wasn't completely sure what the hell he even meant anymore. He wasn't exactly a morning person, which was fine because he knew from experience of barging into Stiles' room at all hours that Stiles could be rather sloth like when he'd just been woken up.

Both Stiles' heartbeat and his breathing hitched slightly at Derek's words and he didn't completely know why. He also didn't have the courage to ask. "Thanks," Stiles muttered, his lips moving against Derek's flesh, only slightly muffled, "Maggie told me to grow it out because apparently I look retarded in Beta-form with a buzzcut."

Derek huffed out a laugh, because yeah, he could imagine that would look kind of stupid.

"You know we have to talk about this eventually right?" Stiles asked almost regretfully, even though he didn't seem obliged to move from the cocoon of Derek's arms and his sheets any time soon. Not that Derek was complaining at all. Although Stiles was still tracing patterns on his back and it was distracting to say the least. "About that whole sniffing thing you did earlier and me leaving and stuff."

He sighed quiet enough that he thought maybe Stiles could have missed it. "I know," he admitted.

And a part of him did want to talk about it; but at the same time another part of him wanted to just bury his head in the sand and live in the moment where he actually had Stiles in his arms, _finally_.

Stiles snorted ever so slightly and then shifted, twisting them both with surprising strength so that they were lying facing each other properly. Stiles was all sleep rumpled and beautiful looking, his face so close to Derek's now that their noses were practically touching.

"Well first of all," Stiles said, scowling slightly even though the way his fingers slid through the gaps between Derek's detracted from it, "You can't just waltz in, say something like you did to me before when I seriously needed to piss and then walk away." He pouted ever so slightly and Derek had to resist the urge to pull that slightly protruding bottom lip with his teeth, suck on it until it was red and swollen. He'd always had a slight fascination with Stiles' mouth, he'd admit that. "It isn't fair," Stiles carried on saying, forcing Derek to focus again, "Seriously a dick move dude, _seriously!_"

Stiles just rolled his eyes at Derek's slightly sheepish smile.

"This is the part where you explain your reasoning," Stiles told him, raising an eyebrow, but he squeezed their fingers together slightly in what Derek assumed was a comforting gesture.

"I didn't want to pressure you," he said after a minute, smoothing his thumb over the back of Stiles' hand. He looked so beautiful with his eyes partially closed and his lips parted, his breath coming out slowly and tickling across Derek's face. "I didn't know if any of this was what you wanted, because you left, that isn't exactly a positive sign."

He actually rolled his eyes. "Yeah well, that's because I thought you were already taken," he admitted and there was an edge of pain in his voice that made Derek want to cringe. It made him want to nuzzle into Stiles' body and just hold on, burning away all of his old memories with new ones. With better ones.

"Who told you that?" he asked, scared of the answer for no reason at all.

Stiles smiled, "It doesn't matter anymore, she was lying, I know now she was lying."

He lifted the hand that wasn't entwined with Stiles' to stroke across his cheekbone, holding the side of his face gently. He traced Stiles' lips with his thumb and smiled a little at the memory of those lips smeared red with blood. Stiles was a good leader, he was a protector. Even though Isaac wasn't his own Pack, Stiles had still protected him. But then, Derek had always known that Stiles would make a good leader, a good Alpha. Even though back then he'd always had it in his mind that Stiles would take up the position of Alpha Female rather than anything else.

But the person in front of him was practically an Alpha himself. It could be seen so clearly in the fact that even the Alpha of Stiles' Pack conceded to him, looked to him for reassurance, trusted him unequivocally with the Pack.

"I missed you," he muttered, letting the hand that Stiles splayed on his chest push him over until he was lying on his back. Stiles hovered over him, slipped into the gap at Derek's side, their hands releasing so that Derek could curl an arm around Stiles' back, pressing it against his spine. Stiles smiled as his fingers came up and twisted into the side of Derek's hair, curling behind his ear and tilting Derek's face up slightly.

Stiles was still close enough for their noses to be touching and it would be so simple for Derek to just close the distance between their mouths, but he meant what he said about not pressuring Stiles. He wanted it to be Stiles' decision and he knew that the younger werewolf could smell his need and his arousal thick in their air, just like he could smell Stiles'. But he could also smell his nervousness, so he wasn't going to ruin this. Derek _refused_ to ruin this.

There were so many things between them that still needed to be said, that needed to be explained and discussed, but right at that moment Derek felt like they had all the time in the world to do that.

Still smiling, Stiles ducked in even closer and pressed his mouth against Derek's, dragging a small noise of pure happiness out of the Alpha. And Stiles carried on smiling against his lips, even as his tongue flicked out and traced the seam of Derek's mouth. He opened up willingly, surprised at how eager Stiles was, at how in control he seemed to be. Before, he never would have imagined that he could have let Stiles control even a kiss, he never would have thought Stiles was capable of it. But this Stiles, this Stiles that had returned to Beacon Hills was confident in a way that Derek adored.

It made his mouth water and his wolf howl to see Stiles like this.

They pressed closer, Stiles' hands knotting into his hair and his mouth crushing down on Derek's with a desperation that Derek had no trouble mirroring. It was Stiles' taste, so unique and perfect as it exploded in Derek's brain. He couldn't get enough of it. He just wanted to crawl inside of Stiles and stay there forever, Pack war be damned. Someone could have walked up and killed him right then and he wouldn't have cared, because this was the closest thing to heaven that Derek had ever gotten to before.

Stiles moaned when Derek's hands pressed against Stiles' back, pulling him over until Stiles was lying between his legs, propped up on his elbows either side of Derek's head, but he didn't like that so much. He wanted to feel Stiles' fingers in his hair again, his nails scratching against his scalp. So he turned them some more until he was pressing Stiles into the mattress, their tongues battling and sliding together in their mouths.

He choked out a moan when Stiles' legs went up around his waist, locking at the base of his spine and his fingers pressed back into his hair, dragging them together even more firmly. It was perfect, it was messy and raw and so completely perfect.

And then Stiles just stopped, his head cocking to the side slightly. Stiles was already flinging himself out of Derek's bedroom window by the time that the sound of the first snarl reached Derek's ears.


	19. Chapter 19

**I can't help but feel that these chapters are short. . . but I don't know, if you think they are then my excuse is because I always end up writing at night/one in the morning and I'm tired! Either way, enjoy . . . **

Stiles was snarling before he even realised he'd really moved. It was instinct, pure and simple that had him leaping out of Derek's bedroom window. Although he would admit that he did allow himself one moment of regret for having to cut short the little make out session he'd been having with Derek. _Seriously, the guy could kiss, _so Stiles thought it was probably a warranted thought!That first yelp of pain, a yelp he recognised as Jason's still rang through his ears and his feet pulled him towards the source of the noise instinctively.

He roared, already shifted as he leapt just into the border of trees, tackling the wolf that had Jason pinned to the ground. He slashed his claws downwards through flesh, the sounds of fabric ripping and the other wolf's howl of pain reverberating off of the trees. Stiles thought it was one of the most glorious sounds he'd ever heard, but then that could just be his protective side talking.

He could hear Jason on the ground behind him, whimpering softly in the back of his throat and he could also smell the blood, the scent of it thick and tangible in the air. It clung to the back of his throat, threatened to choke him under the weight of it, so he resorted to his usual tactic of just snarling past the blockage.

He bared his teeth, letting the wolf take over for a second as he grabbed the other wolf by the front of his shirt and slammed him into a tree. He sunk his nails into his flesh, anchoring them together and making the guy cough out his groan of pain as Stiles slammed him into the tree again.

Even through his rage-induced haze he could see that it was the same guy as last time. The one who'd attacked him in the alley – or at least tried to – his first day back in town. And if Stiles had been calm enough to think about it, he probably would have realised that the wolf's earlier declaration that they were on his Pack's territory would mean that he was overstepping his bounds slightly attacking the guy like this. But then on the other hand he could still smell Jason's blood, could see it on the wolf's nails as he reached up to try and claw Stiles' hands off of his chest.

The recognition was clear in his eyes and the scent of fear drifted through Stiles' nostrils, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. His jaw cracked as his fangs grew slightly more, filling his mouth until it felt like his gums were bursting. He roared in the other wolf's face, pressing closer to force his nails further into the guy's chest. He didn't even feel the nails that were raking bloody lines across his own chest and forearms. He was too far gone to feel the pain.

He could feel as well as scent the swell of his Pack behind him and the rustle of leaves that implied Jason was either clambering to his feet or being helped up eased some of the tension from his body slightly. But he only stopped snarling when arms wound their way around his waist. And really, he should have known from the way that the wolf he had pinned relaxed who it was, but he still had a momentary second of panic during which he released the other wolf with one hand and sank his claws into the thigh of the person behind him.

Derek grunted, but said nothing. No doubt because the moment the sound had ghosted over the back of Stiles' neck with his exhaled breath, Stiles' claws had retracted. He could feel what he could only describe as electricity crackling through his body wherever Derek was touching him, or had touched him recently. He could still feel the aftershocks of having Derek's body blanketing his, of having Derek's taste and scent completely filling up his senses.

It had been perfect and even if they did have more things that needed to be said and even if Stiles did know that he probably should explain about Erica eventually, that didn't mean he regretted it. And it definitely didn't mean he didn't want a repeat performance. The only problem was, his brain kept following the treacherous path of _if a kiss was that good, how amazing would sex be?_ And honestly, it was already pretty obvious what he and Derek had been up to in his room just from the state of his clothes and his scent, right then was not a good time to be reacting to Derek's presence like he wanted to.

Although, he would admit to pressing back into Derek's hold slightly.

"It's okay," Derek's voice was a low growl in his ear, his voice still scratchy from sleep and Stiles could smell the tail end of his arousal still hovering around him, clinging to Derek's flesh like the finest cologne. Derek's mouth pressed against the skin just behind his ear, his tongue flicking out to taste it as one of Derek's hands slipped under his shirt, tracing comforting circles on his belly. "He's one of mine, it's okay."

He didn't bother reacting any further than retracting the claws of his other hand from the wolf's chest, not as regretful as he probably should be that he'd attacked a wolf on its own territory. In fact, he wasn't regretful at all.

"I'm not sorry," he said stubbornly, his fingers curling around Derek's forearm in a move that could only be described as possessive.

Derek chuckled for a minute against his neck. "Never thought you would be," he said, his heartbeat pounding truth into his lowly spoken words, "And I have to say it's kind of endearing how willingly you protect your Pack, how seriously you take it."

Stiles smirked, twisting around in Derek's hold so that the Alpha could see his raised eyebrows. "Oh, it's endearing is it?" he asked, wanting to fold his arms across his chest but instead going for winding them around Derek's waist, holding their bodies closer.

He only jumped a little when Derek grabbed his ass and purposefully ignored Maggie's smirk and the smell of her amusement from a few feet away. Derek just smirked right back at him, his eyes practically smouldering.

"This is Kyle," he said, looking over Stiles' shoulder at the werewolf who Stiles had until recently had his nails embedded in, "I sent him out as a scout a few days ago, Kyle this is Stiles, his Alpha Rory and their Pack." He jerked his head in the general direction of Rory when he spoke. "They are guests on our territory until further notice and will be treated as such," he continued, fixing his scout with a very Alpha-y stare, "And as my mate Stiles will be treated with respect, indefinitely, do you understand?"

And Stiles could say that his excuse for Derek's words not clicking in his brain sooner was because he was a little caught up in the fact that the formal tone sounded so weird in Derek's gravelly, slightly sleepy voice. It was adorable and kind of freaky all at the same time.

Then it clicked and he jerked backwards, no doubt only avoiding falling over because Derek's arms were still around him, holding him in place. So really he hadn't moved all that far backwards. He stared up at Derek in surprise and shock, knowing that the scents were cloaking them thickly by now, weighting them down with the pressure of it.

"I'm your mate?" he asked, refusing to admit _ever_ that he squeaked those words out, even though actually chances were he really had done. He thought he was allowed some lee-way though considering.

In his chest his wolf hummed in contentment, but the human part of Stiles – the part of him that would always be human and still reeling from rejection like it was yesterday – was only confused further by the way that Derek looked down at him. It was like he thought Stiles was dumb or something, like he was shocked that Stiles had really not known that.

He kept on staring at Stiles, a deep frown setting into his previously relaxed features and that right there was almost enough to make Stiles completely regret his question. He didn't like seeing Derek so frowny, it reminded him of bad times. Or at least of worse times. "Yes," he said bluntly, even managing to sound a little offended, like Stiles had somehow chosen to be oblivious to this fact.

"Since when?" he couldn't help but ask, but thought that he probably comforted Derek some when he placed his hands back onto the Alpha's waist. He wasn't planning on running, not this time. He deserved his answers and he was past all of that. Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself, because really there would always be that part of him that wanted to bolt.

Derek snorted out a laugh at something he must have seen in Stiles' expression; or maybe he was just trying to lighten the atmosphere that had settled between them. Stiles didn't know, but he hung on the words that came out of Derek's mouth next, clung to them with an almost childish desperation, only scowling a little at how carefree and easily Derek spoke, like it really had always been the most obvious thing in the world. "I probably realised it around about the same time I tried to get you to cut off my arm."

Stiles blinked, "Oh." Because really, that had been quite a while, you would have thought a badass werewolf would have had the balls to say _something_ during that space of time. Apparently not though evidently.


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay so this will be the last update for two weeks, because I'm going on holiday. I'm supposed to be asleep right now because I'm going to be knackered on the plane, but I don't care because I had to get this up. So, see you all in two weeks and I'll have an update for you then. Enjoy. . . **

"You're an idiot," Stiles said, because he had to say it. The words didn't even sound like an insult, but then it was hard to insult someone who was staring at him like he'd finally found the one thing he'd always been looking for. He thought that maybe the way that Derek was looking at him was a lot like the way that Rory would look at Lucy. It was strange, but not unwelcome to have someone looking at him like that.

It was the next day after Derek's scout had returned and the word mate had suddenly felt like it was being branded onto Stiles' skin. It felt like his eyes were finally opening and if he was being honest, he was an idiot too for not seeing it sooner.

The news was that Mason's Pack would attack tomorrow, in the afternoon so that it was close enough to the full moon in a few days that they'd be stronger but not out of control. It was a good plan and Stiles knew it wasn't a ruse because he knew Mason. This was Mason's style.

The rest of that day had been spent wrapped up in Pack, touching and scenting and just living for maybe the last time. They piled into the one large tent as a single knot of limbs, tangled up until it was unclear where one of them ended and another began. It was relaxing to be so wrapped up in the scent of Pack, because even though they were confident about their skills, it didn't mean that they were cocky. They knew there was a chance some of them might not walk away from this, which was exactly why they took those moments to just be a Pack.

"Go to him," Lucy said, turning her face so that she could look at him over the top of Maggie's head. Everyone else was asleep, their heartbeats and breathing echoing around them in the darkness. If he had to guess he'd say that it was probably about three in the morning, but he wasn't sure. "He needs your comfort too."

He chewed his bottom lip, because this was the part he was unsure about. He didn't know how this was supposed to work. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about lying tangled up amongst a Pack and yet being mated to an Alpha of another. He didn't want to leave, but he didn't see any way that staying would be possible.

"We're never going to leave you behind," Lucy said, like she could hear his thoughts and it was Lucy, so there had always been that chance, "We're a Pack, Stiles, that isn't going to change, we'll make it work."

Her hand reached across Maggie so that her fingers could slide through his, squeezing gently. "Go to him," she said, her thumb rubbing a line across the back of his hand, "We'll never go anywhere without you, we'll work something out."

So he went, dislodging himself with some difficulty from the giant puppy pile that was his sleeping Pack and crept across the maze of limbs towards the house. The wolf who had acted as a scout before was sitting on the porch, keeping an eye out for the other Pack apparently and he stared unwaveringly at Stiles when he padded up the steps. In response, Stiles just smirked, flashing a fang before brushing past and into the house.

It wasn't that he didn't care for Derek's neck Pack members, it was just that he didn't particularly care if they didn't like him.

Isaac met him on the landing, all wide eyes and rumpled curls, his fingers picking at the material of the pyjama bottoms he slept in. He looked nervous, but then that wasn't exactly an uncommon expression to be on Isaac's face.

"He said I had to ask you for permission first," Isaac blurted out before Stiles could even open his mouth, "Lee said it had to be alright with you." And the guy was looking at him through his goddamn lashes, looking so adorable and helpless that Stiles could feel his heart melting. "I want it to be alright with you," he admitted and Stiles just crumpled.

He couldn't help it. He sighed out his breath and reached out to Isaac, pulling them close together and tangling the fingers of one hand in Isaac's curls. "Of course it's alright with me," he said, relieved when he felt Isaac relax against him, "Why wouldn't it be?"

He felt more than saw Isaac's shrug.

Honestly, he was sort of pleased that there was something between Lee and Isaac, because Lee was probably the only person genuinely kind and gentle enough to be able to look after Isaac. Lee had his own past, his own skeletons in his closet and Stiles couldn't help but think that maybe that would cause them to click together somehow.

Lee would hopefully pull Isaac out of his shell a little bit and Isaac would hopefully be able to keep Lee's feet firmly on the ground. Lee had always been a bit of a loose cannon, he was always willing to take the risks and honestly, it was a little bit terrifying sometimes.

"It's fine with me," Stiles said, pulling back and grinning at Isaac, pushing his fingers into the sides of his hair and holding his head in place, forcing him to look at him. The guy really was adorable and if Stiles had ever hated anyone with every single fibre in his body, he hated Isaac's dad. "Just don't let him get away with anything, he's a lazy git."

Isaac beamed and pressed his face into the side of Stiles neck as soon as the grip on his head loosened, promising that he wouldn't. When he backed away into his room with a nervous smile, Stiles had a suspicious feeling that the scraping noise he heard was Isaac's window opening.

He was huffing out a laugh even as he walked the rest of the way to Derek's room. It was weird being in the house that he was used to seeing completely decrepit. He hadn't thought much about it before, but it felt more like a home now that the walls weren't falling apart and the scents of death and smoke didn't hover in the air. With his new – okay not so new anymore – senses, Stiles could only imagine how overwhelming the scent of burnt flesh would have been.

Derek was still asleep, flat on his back with one hand stretched out across the other side of the bed, like he was reaching for something. And really, there was far too much flesh showing for Stiles to be thinking about anything _other_ than sex, to be even thinking straight. It was unfair. Even as a werewolf now Stiles had long since faced the fact that he would never have abs like that. It was disappointing, but still, he'd settle for being able to see Derek's any day.

The Alpha looked strangely innocent when he slept, strange because there was absolutely nothing about Derek Hale that was innocent. His mouth was parted ever so slightly and his breath came out as a low moan that had Stiles grinning. And from there his idea just sort of snowballed.

He pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his jeans off, leaving both in a heap on the floor. He stayed in his boxers, not at all surprised to see the fact that his dick was already tenting them slightly. Werewolves ran hotter than humans did, so Derek slept with nothing more than a thin sheet covering him and Stiles could say he was pleased to discover that Derek slept naked. Or at least had chosen that night to sleep naked.

Maybe it had been pre-emptive.

He slipped in under the sheet and lay in between Derek's legs on his front, more than a little shocked that Derek didn't wake up, but then that did make it all the more fun. Stiles would admit that he had a habit of dancing around subjects and messing about a bit, but when it came to shit that mattered he had no problem in diving right in. Normally that was figuratively, but this time it took on a much more literal meaning.

He buried his nose in the crease between Derek's thigh and his groin, breathing in the pure scent of Derek and smiling at the face that he could smell his own scent clinging to the bed sheets. He scratched his nails lightly down Derek's thighs, feeling the muscles twitch under his touch as he turned his face and nuzzled at Derek's already half-hard cock. Apparently, even when still asleep it wasn't a difficult feat to get Derek hard.

He licked up the length of Derek's shaft, following that thick vein with his tongue and practically humming at the taste that exploded onto his taste buds when he flicked his tongue over the head. He could feel Derek waking up underneath his hands, could hear his heartbeat changing as his breathing shifted, but that didn't mean he stopped. He didn't even look up, he just sucked on the head some more for a second before relaxing the muscles in his throat and taking Derek right down to the base.

Stiles was good at this, he _knew_ he was good at this and it wasn't even boasting if it was a simple fact. He'd had practice, plenty of practice, but he could safely say that there had never been anything more gratifying than feeling the heavy weight of Derek on his tongue, of being able to taste him and smell him. Of having Derek completely dominating his senses, it was perfect.

He swallowed around Derek's cock and then laughed when Derek jumped suddenly, swearing as his fingers grabbed at Stiles' head. His hips thrust up towards Stiles' face uncontrollably, like he was trying to push himself further down Stiles' throat even when there was physically no more for him to swallow. He pulled off, jacking Derek loosely while he looked up at the Alpha through his lashes.

Derek had never looked more beautiful, he could honestly say.

His cheeks were flushed crimson and his eyes were blown wide, his head tipped back as his body arched up off the bed slightly. One of his hands was buried deep in Stiles' hair, gripping the short strands like it was the only thing keeping him attached to their earth. The other had slipped down to cup his jaw, a thumb pressed hard against the underside as his fingers curled around behind his ear.

"You little shit," Derek laughed out breathlessly when he looked down the length of his body and met Stiles' eyes.

Stiles just grinned and tried to pull off his best innocent expression, which admittedly was a little ruined by the fact he had a cock in his mouth again. He slipped his hands behind Derek's ass, urging his hips upwards towards his face and that was really all the encouragement that Derek needed.

He could feel claws scratching his scalp lightly as Derek fucked his mouth, but he didn't care. In fact, he revelled in it, adored that he could make Derek lose control, because that was certainly what he was doing. The growls and moans sounded like they were being torn out of the Alpha, the air sounding like it was being punched from his lungs and Stiles loved it. So he obligingly kept his tongue pressed flat against the underside of Derek's cock and let his throat relax and he could feel when Derek was getting close. He could feel it in the way that Derek's muscles were bunching up and twitching. He could hear it in the way that his moans were becoming lower, more guttural and more desperate. And he could definitely smell it, he felt like he was practically bathing in it, the scent of Derek's arousal and his need grabbing him in a chokehold.

He growled around Derek's cock, knowing that it was the vibrations that sent the older man over the edge, that had him coming down Stiles' throat and gripping his hair tight enough to pull it out. Except, he couldn't focus on anything other than the fact that as he came, Derek gasped out his name, whispered it reverently like it was some sort of prayer.

And Stiles swallowed down everything that Derek had to offer, reaching down and pressing the heel of his hand hard against his own arousal. That was all it took for him to come, just the scent and taste of Derek, the feel of him and the sound of his heavy, almost laboured breaths. It was almost too much and it sent him crashing down over the edge harder than he had ever thought could be possible.

His entire body just went lax as fireworks exploded in his brain, behind his closed eyelids as he pulled off of Derek's cock to press his forehead against the man's thigh, moaning out his own release. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't have remembered how to fight Derek off when he pulled him up the bed.

His sticky, damp boxers were stripped off of him and he shivered when Derek dragged him close, the heat that rolled off of his body searing through into Stiles' soul. "Knew there was a use for that mouth after all," Derek whispered some time later, his mouth by his ear just long enough to say the words before it was closing over Stiles' own, catching his laugh and twisting it up into a moan almost immediately.

He pressed his fingers against Derek's flesh, pulled them together and held on like Derek was some sort of anchor. And maybe he was. It sure felt like it.

The kiss, just like their movements, was lazy and unrushed. It wasn't a forceful claiming like the rest had all seemed to be, instead it was just simple perfection. It was Derek's hand splayed against the bottom of Stiles' back, holding him close whilst the other stroked gently at his flesh, long fingers drifting down over his neck and shoulder, tracing patterns neither of them could follow.

And they stayed like that for hours, just wrapped up in each other, sharing smiles and kisses and fleeting touches and it was different from the possible goodbye he'd shared with his Pack, because this felt more like a greeting. It felt more like the discovery that it really was and it made Stiles wish that the time they had was endless. It made him wish that they could stay unhurried, that they could have remained right where they were until they deemed it fit to let the rest of the world in.

Which was why he said, "You're an idiot," even as he smiled. Even as he looked down his body at Derek. Derek who had his chin resting on arms folded over Stiles' stomach and Stiles' legs hooked around his back. Derek who was staring up at him with the light shining in his beautiful eyes. Derek who smiled at Stiles like he just couldn't get enough, like he couldn't quite believe that any of this was real.

"I know," he replied without even needing to ask why the hell Stiles thought that, what the hell he was talking about. "I know," he repeated, moving his arms so that he could press a gentle kiss against Stiles' belly button, the action so stupid, so unlike the image of Derek that he had painted in his brain that it had Stiles laughing and arching his back off of the mattress.

He felt carefree for a ridiculous moment, even with the threat of death and war looming down on them. Even with the clock ticking away to what could be the final hour. Lying there, he felt untouchable. He felt on top of the world and completely at home, wrapped up in Derek with his Pack just outside the window and the sound of Isaac's laughter from the other room seeping through the cracks in the floorboards, lighting up every shadow and setting it aflame.

Derek smiled at him even as he rolled his eyes, carefree and indulging. His eyes dropped closed slightly when Stiles pushed his fingers into Derek's hair and then slowly pulled him upwards until Derek was settled above him. Their faces just inches apart and their noses almost touching with Derek's breath ghosting across his face, Stiles just wanted to hit pause on his life and stay right there forever.

"I'm an idiot too though," he admitted in a low voice and Derek would probably never understand how much it took out of him to admit that. He didn't want to think he was in the wrong. He didn't want to think that he had had a hand in his own leaving. He'd wanted to blame everything else, but really he was just as much to blame. He didn't regret it, but at the same time he wished he could have just slapped some sense into the teenage him and made it so that they could have had this for years and not just hours.

Derek smiled and kissed him gently, like it was the last and the first time all wrapped up into one, like it was the only thing he could ever imagine wanting to do with his time, like Stiles was perfect. "Well come on, we already knew that," Derek said, his expression devilish when he jerked back laughing as Stiles swatted at him.

And so what if they had a war coming up. So what if in a few hours they'd be sliding through a massacre, painted in blood and snarling with every ounce of viciousness and desperation they could drag up from their souls. So what if soon the lips that were gently kissing flesh would be drawing back over fangs that tore through into bone. So what if this was the only and the last time they got to do this.

Stiles had been waiting far too long for the moment when Derek Hale would finally look down at him with a smile in his eyes, bloodshed and pain could be pushed aside for just a little bit. Everything could be pushed aside for just a little bit in favour of tasting the sheen of sweat on Derek's skin and in favour of slowly dragging another orgasm out of the Alpha with the light tug of his fingers.

Everything else could wait, because they had catching up to do.


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay, so SURPRISE I'm back. Sorry it's been a while, but I'm here now. This chapter is Lee and Isaac because a few people asked for it and I love Isaac so I couldn't resist. Don't know how it turned out, but anyway, here you go. . . **

It probably wasn't much of a secret that Isaac saw the world in an array of twisted up and tormented shades of black and white. He didn't think it was unreasonable that he clung to whatever brief flashes of colour that were painted across his vision.

Like that flower he found once when he was twelve, small and purple but growing amongst a pile of rubble. Something beautiful rising out of something ruined. Isaac still had that flower, pressed between two pages of a notebook and hidden safely away where he could look at it whenever he felt the world was growing too dark for him to handle. He'd used to look at it all the time when he'd still lived with his Dad, before he'd become a werewolf.

Derek was a bit of an anomaly, because he hung on the edge of Isaac's vision in muted colours, causing something conflicted and afraid to churn in his stomach. But it was Stiles who seared through the mess of black and white like a shooting star burning across the night's sky. It was Stiles with his private smiles and pained eyes who gave Isaac his attention and who carded his fingers through Isaac's hair just like his mother had used to do. And it was Stiles who didn't say a word when he found Isaac staring at the little purple flower pressed between two crinkled pages, because Stiles had always been the sort of person to understand how it was the little things that made up the world. It was the little things that meant the most.

Nothing about their relationship was romantic even though it could have been. To anyone looking in from the outside, maybe the way that Isaac curled up against the then-human Stiles, with his fingers ghosting over pale flesh and his face nuzzled against the nearest flesh, maybe that would have looked like something more than it was. Maybe that would have looked like more than just comfort and more than a friendship that had managed to bury itself deep under Isaac's skin so unexpectedly that he couldn't actually remember when he and Stiles had become friends. But it didn't matter what it seemed like, because that wasn't what it was.

It was Derek who had saved him, true. It was Derek who had given him the strength and the chance; but it was Stiles who had taught him how to live, who had coaxed smiles out of him with the promise of homemade chocolate cake and his choice of movie that night. It was all down to Stiles who had fast become his favourite colour, burning through the black and white and teaching him how to see in colour again.

It was all Stiles and it pissed Isaac off more than he even knew how to express that back then nobody else had been able to see it. Nobody had really looked at Stiles and now he was back and he was all shiny and new and everyone thought he could maybe be their favourite colour. This new, strong Stiles with all of his old sass but a new confidence that seeped out of his pores, they all wanted his attention now. But he'd been Isaac's first and this was Stiles. This was Stiles who introduced him first when etiquette said he shouldn't have and who still cared his fingers through Isaac's curls and flashed him private smiles, coaxing out the happiness in him effortlessly.

It was Stiles who's left, but who hadn't forgotten him in the slightest.

And then there was a new light, a new colour branded onto his limited spectrum and of course Stiles had been the one to bring it. _Of course he had_. It was only fitting. This new colour was bright and pulsing and his wolf through back its head in response and screamed, "Mate," and "Mine." It was a wolf that roared in on a motorbike clad in leather and smiled at Stiles like Isaac did. Someone who looked at Stiles like he was so obviously the leader there and like he was a hero. Isaac knew he could get on with someone who looked at Stiles in the right way. In the way he deserved to be looked at.

It was Lee, who was suddenly there and pushing away the darkness with lazy smiles and fingertips gently tracing the line of Isaac's jaw almost reverently, like he was something precious.

"It has to be alright with him," Lee said with his fingers entwined with Isaac's and his smiles just for him alone. "It needs to be alright with him." And he was right, it had to be, because Lee was just like Isaac in that he'd handed the most sacred and fragile, the most delicate parts of himself over to Stiles to treasure a long time ago. They both belonged to Stiles on a level that was more than just Beta to Alpha. It was on a level far more intense and real, because it was something that they had chosen, something that had wormed its way into their souls. It was the reason they looked at Stiles before looking at their Alpha, it was the reason they trusted him with the broken pieces of themselves.

Because it was Stiles and Stiles just seemed to hold the key to everything without even realising it.

So they needed to be alright with him and even though Isaac knew it would be, he was still nervous when he asked. And when he backed into his room, the permission still ringing through his head kike the lyrics of a song, he couldn't help the grin that stretched his lips.

He wasn't even surprised in the slightest when hands grabbed him from behind, turning him as the door was kicked shut. And then suddenly Lee's hands with in his hair and his mouth was slotting into place over Isaac's and everything exploded in a sudden mess of colour and light behind Isaac's eyelids and he couldn't even remember what it was like to see in black and white anymore.

Lee snarled out his moans straight into Isaac's mouth, both of their hands scrabbling and tugging at clothes, tearing them in their desperation to get to bare flesh. It was almost painful the way that they were crashing together, the desperation and the pure need burning in Isaac's chest. He felt like he was on fire and for one fleeting moment he thought that he couldn't understand how the hell Stiles and Derek had danced around each other for so long; because being with his mate was indescribable. It was impossible to resist and it _hurt_ to even think about trying. So he didn't understand how either of them had been able to survive for so long not being with each other.

Even then, the desperation that was clawing out of the pair of them was making it impossible for them to go slow. They'd slow down for the next time, when they felt calmer and when the edge had been taken off.

It was a messy tangle of limbs as they crashed down onto the bed, Isaac's legs hitching up around the bottom of Lee's and his fingers buried into the mess that was the other werewolf's hair. Lee pressed gentle kisses down the pale curve of his neck, his tongue tracing circles on his skin as he slowly pushed forwards. The desperation that had led to this moment meant there'd been limited preparation and it _hurt_. It fucking _burned_, but feelings were exploding inside of him, things he didn't have words for, that he didn't have the vocabulary to explain and he didn't even really feel it. He certainly didn't care.

It wasn't slow, he hadn't expected it to be. It was fast and hard and needy and Lee's teeth were in his shoulder, Isaac's fingers clawing at his back as he whined low and desperate in his throat. The slap of flesh on flesh filled the room, mingling the frantic beat of their hearts, the tempo climbing until Isaac would be surprised if the rhythm wasn't being tattooed on the inside of his ribcage.

He panted in Lee's ear, arched up into him and gripped him tighter with his legs, pulling him in deeper until it was impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Lee moaned, the sound escalating into a howl that sounded like it was being physically torn from him and his hips slammed forwards just a handful more times, the pattern of thrusts erratic before finally Lee's entire body tensed up and went rigid as he came.

It was the not-so-human fangs that broke through the skin of his shoulder and seemed to nestle into bone that tipped Isaac over the edge, that had him plummeting down off that cliff and into his own orgasm in a sudden explosion of white-washed light.

And Isaac could feel himself falling in love with the easy acceptance and the unadulterated happiness that shone out of Lee's brightly coloured eyes. He could feel himself falling in love with the new array of colours splashed like paint-splatters across his vision. And he didn't think it would be so hard to fall in love with Lee himself either. Not with his wolf mumbling, "Mate," constantly under its breath and not with Stiles' approval binding them together. No, he didn't think it would be hard at all. He thought he was probably already halfway there.


	22. Chapter 22

**So I don't know if any of you think so, but I feel like this is kind of a short chapter. But in my defence I'm a little drunk and a whole lot tired. Either way, sorry it's been a while and I know I'm not being all that good with updating, but I've been busy. Hopefully you'll enjoy. . . if not review just to bitch. Whatever floats your boat. Happy reviews are always greatly preferred and appreciated though, they're the oxygen for this fic and I could never be more grateful for all the support this has gotten.**

Stiles stood next to Derek in the clearing, Rory on his other side, but he knew it was the former fact that had Mason's eyes narrowing. And Stiles knows why because he isn't stupid, he knows that he has his body positioned so that he's poised ready to leap in front of Derek more than Rory. He knows that he reeks of Derek and of sex, but then that's sort of what happens when you reduce a big bad Alpha to a quivering mess with a handjob and don't even complain once when he drags you in close to lie in a sticky tangle of limbs until you absolutely have to get up. And Stiles would say he'd showered, except Derek had pouted when he'd made his way in that general direction and instead he'd just settled for letting Derek lick all of the remnants of their lovemaking off of him. Which yeah, had been more than a little hot if he was being honest.

And so now maybe he was still a little sweaty and rumbled standing there in the clearing facing off against Mason's Pack, but he really didn't give a shit. He'd be lying if he said he had any particular desire to kill Mason himself, but he did kind of hope that stinking of sex would ramp the guy's jealousy up a little and distract him during the fight.

"You do know this would all be a lot simpler if you just handed him over?" Stiles asked, even though it wasn't really much of a question and he already knew what the answer was going to be. Either way, he felt like it was necessary to say considering they'd all just spotted Charlie creeping onto the edge of the scene and behind him his Pack was vibrating with nervous energy.

And not only that, they were vibrating with the pure _need_ to move, to maim and kill and enact revenge. The memory of Sam's fading heartbeat was thrumming through Stiles' ears like the beat of a war drum, final and almost deafening with all of the connotations and emotions that hung on every note.

Mason scowled ever so slightly, but he didn't seem all that surprised at the question. "You know that isn't going to happen," he said and he was obviously trying to feign ease. Which would have been convincing as well if Stiles didn't know him, if Stiles hadn't dated him for a year and didn't know that the way Mason was repeatedly flexing his fingers every few seconds was due to nerves.

He'd done that right before they'd fucked for the first time actually, but then he didn't think that needed to be mentioned with Derek right there. Not that any of that mattered anymore, since he'd come harder just from the feeling of sucking Derek off than he had ever come having sex with anyone else. _Just imagine what it'll be like when you mate properly, when he knots you,_ his mind whispered to him and really the only reason he told himself to shut the fuck up was because it wasn't really all that appropriate for him to be getting a hard on in the middle of a battlefield.

Or at least what was going to become a battlefield in a few minutes time.

"I just thought I should probably give you an out anyway," he said, knowing full well that maybe it was unorthodox for him to be speaking in the place of his Alpha, but that was just the way that they worked. Rory did the main snarling parts and Stiles did the manipulative pre-battle speeches. "I mean, not all of your Pack has to die, Mase," he said, scrubbing a hand across his hair and not quite knowing when the hell his claws came out, "But we're really not fussy, if it stands between us and him, it dies."

It really was as simple as that.

Mason shrugged. "I already told you, he's my brother and he's _Pack_," he explained, not that it really needed all that much explanation. They were all werewolves here, they understood the implications of Pack and what that meant. "We will defend him like you defended Jason over in Florida."

Not far behind him and somewhere off to the left there was a choked off, embarrassed sound and Stiles knew without looking who the noise had come from. "Guy's come on, Florida was so not my fault," he groaned, practically whining.

"Jase shut the fuck up, Florida was completely your fault," Sax replied quickly, sounding a little more strained and snappish than he usually would have done – because Jason as a complete tool almost all of the time, but that didn't mean that they were harsh to him, he was still Pack – but given the situation nobody really begrudged him of that.

When Lucy growled, Stiles just knew that Jason had opened his mouth to argue further. Thankfully, even Jason wasn't stupid enough to argue with Lucy. There were definitely perks to being Alpha Female. Not that Stiles would ever have the right anatomy to find out what that felt like, but still, he could imagine.

"I'd say this is nothing personal," Rory said, needing to give some input here because even if they did things backwards as a Pack half the time, they still stuck to some unspoken rules, "Except it really is."

And it was. This was more personal than anything else could possibly be. This wasn't over any border feud and it wasn't about defending territory like the Hale Pack were fighting for. This was for Sam. This was revenge.

Mason just nodded.

And that's when a familiar face appeared, blonde hair swirling around her head like a sort of halo. Although, saying halo generally implied that there were good qualities in the person. She smiled at Stiles, her red lips twisting into an expression that was pure sarcasm and more than a little bit of hatred; but there was also a rather large dosage of contempt in there as well. It was all he could do not to yell out a, "Fuck you," that he really thought was deserved here, but then that niggling voice in the back of his head was telling him that would be childish.

Instead he just muttered, "_Erica_," under his breath, the name sounding more like an accusation than it should have been able to.

Behind him, he could _feel_ his entire Pack bristle, could taste the anger rolling off of them in waves, but it's Maggie who spoke. It's always Maggie who spoke and honestly, that's probably one of the main reasons that she would always be Stiles' best friend.

"_Oh bitch, you're dead meat_."

Erica's smile faltered for a second under the force of Maggie's glare, under the weight of an entire Pack's anger. When the smile returned, he couldn't help but notice that it was a little strained.

"Whoever takes her down, I'll buy dinner," Maggie said and the snorts of laughter that echo around the clearing are from his Pack alone, because only they would understand how stingy Maggie can be with her money. She never paid for her own food, let alone anyone else's.

"And I'll buy them a drink," he said, because he can't let his side down here. He can't be the weak one, not anymore. That just isn't him. He's Head Beta of Rory's Pack, he's built up a reputation that is completely justified. And he's also so completely past letting someone like Erica push him around. So even though he can feel Derek's surprise and confusion pressing against his senses, trying to wheedle out answers and explanations, he ignores it and instead just grinned.

And that's when the carnage started.


	23. Chapter 23

He didn't actually know who out of any of them made the first move, but suddenly they were all tensed up, on edge and a second later they were springing, propelling themselves forwards with nothing but raw power bunching in their muscles. Both Packs meeting in the middle with a crescendo of snarls and cut off howls, the sound of battle and of war. One of the first things that he really noticed and was able to focus on was Maggie bolting past him as a streak of red and he knew what her target was without even having to look.

They were fighting two to one, the numbers never having really gotten back to him that Mason's Pack were at least forty strong, but Stiles actually found he was okay with those odds. He probably shouldn't have been, but he was.

Fighting for him was like sliding into another skin, just in a different way than Rory and Derek did it. Both of them melted out of their human forms and into the shape of the Alpha, clothes falling in tatters off their bodies and howls rumbling in their throat even as their jaws closed around flesh, snapping through bone. He vaguely registered Derek going for Mason, but he didn't pay it much of a mind, because he had his own task to focus on. He had revenge bubbling through his veins, tearing its way out of his throat as an echoing war cry as he locked Charlie in his sights and fought his way over.

He ducked blows and weaved around flying bodies like he was participating in some sort of grisly dance and this was all heavily choreographed. It was simple, the casual duck and weave of the fight, the blood running down his arm that wasn't his and the snarl in his throat that replaced his human side's incessant words. He let the wolf loose, let it rip and tear into any flesh that got into its way that didn't scream _Pack_ at him and maybe he should have been concerned about the fact that he stopped with his claws an inch away from Boyd's face without even needed to think, but he was too focussed on the mission at hand to really wonder about the specifics of who his wolf considered Pack now.

He grabbed a wolf by the back of the neck, sinking his nails through until they bit into the guy's windpipe, turning the guy's scream into a rattling sort of sound. He lifted him up and off of Jason where he had been pinned to the floor and kicked at another wolf while snapping the first's neck with one hand. He tossed the body away and nodded to Jason, standing over him just long enough for him to clamber to his feet and regain his bearings. Because yes, he had revenge to taste, he had a person to kill, but there was no way in hell he was even letting someone as aggravating as Jason die when he had a chance to stop it.

The clearing was filled with the sounds of dying wolfs, with snarls and screams and soft whimpers weaving through it all. Somewhere off to the side he could hear Lucas laughing manically and if he listened a little harder he could hear Lee muttering constantly under his breath in a voice that was hardly human. The words were a jumbled up mixture of curses and praises, the latter directed towards Isaac who he had noticed was straying no more than a few feet away from Lee, but was still holding his own. Then again, Isaac had always been quite a good fighter.

The part that bothered him the most though was that even while tearing a wolf's throat out with his teeth and chuckling crazily under his breath at the thought of Derek's old threat as he did so, he still found his ears straining to hear the sound of Callum's whimpering sobs and he could just envision to boy curled up with his mother on the floor, hands over his ears as he tried to drown out the sounds of the fight. It made Stiles wish they had started this far enough away for him to not have to be subject to listening.

He roared when a wolf jumped onto his back, the sound that erupted from his throat more out of anger at himself for dropping his guard like that and allowing it to happen rather than the pain of the bite. He'd gotten good at ignoring his own pain in favour of focussing. A strange thing considering how much trouble he had with focussing, or at least had had in the past with it. He flipped himself, which the wolf hadn't been expecting, landing hard on his back and flattening his assailant underneath his body. The move probably would have been more effective had he weighed more, but it dislodged the arms around his neck just long enough for him to whip around and back onto his feet. He grabbed an ankle and threw the wolf at a tree, his mind more on the task of getting to Charlie rather than killing some random pitiful wolf.

He could smell Charlie now, even over the blood and the scents of _other Pack_ and pain and that sharp hint of fear that was clogging up the air. There was a path of bodies between him and Charlie, almost all of them from the other Pack, but he spotted one of Derek's new wolves in amongst them. He also spotted Martin, one of his own, but he was still alive and didn't look to be in any immediate danger given that the only damage there seemed to be was to his legs. Hence why he was still on the floor.

"Sax, cover Martin," he snarled out as he passed, nodding in the direction of their fallen Packmate and not even sticking around long enough to see whether or not Sax followed the command. He knew he would.

He roared again when he saw Charlie take Jay down and was leaping at the other wolf before Jay's body had even hit the ground. They fell in a messy, uncoordinated tangle of limbs that Charlie was fighting his way out of almost as soon as he got into it. Stiles on the other hand lashed out with his nails and teeth, dragging the other wolf closer and unconcerned with the skin being torn off his back in ribbons by claws. All he could concentrate on was the need thrumming through his veins to end this, to avenge and to kill. His wolf was completely at the surface now and he could hear it's thoughts merging with his, demanding the kill, longing for the taste of blood on their tongue.

He wanted it. He _needed_ it. And they were going to get it.

He didn't know who started the roll, but he thought it could have been him accidentally. All he knew was that one minute he had his fangs not even an inch away from Charlie's throat, ready to sink into flesh and tear and then the next he was rolling down a slight embankment that they hadn't realised was on the edge of the clearing.

A pained snarl choked its way out of his throat when a tree root rammed into the flesh of his torn back, but the momentum kept carrying them on past it and so he just clenched his teeth and tensed against the pain. Charlie was already up and scrambling away by the time that they came to a stop, scrambling away like the coward that he was rather than trying to seek out any sort of opening as Stiles would have done.

But then, Stiles wanted revenge, Charlie just wanted to live.

Stiles was up and following not even a heartbeat later, dropping onto all fours to gain the speed he'd need to catch up. He ignored the feeling of his back trying to knit itself back together and also ignored the dull ache of pain in his shoulder from that wolf's bite and another ache from what he suspected were claw marks in his thigh – he couldn't remember how he'd gotten those. He pushed past it and leapt, pushing himself off of the trunk of a large tree as soon as he landed, moving on to another and then using the height he'd gained to launch himself at Charlie.

He landed on Charlie's back, his teeth already locked around the back of his neck, sinking deep enough to hit the bone of his spinal column. He shook the limp Charlie almost like a dog would do with a rabbit, not really caring about analogies at that point in time even though there was a niggling moment of sarcasm and dry humour in the back of his mind when he realised what he was doing. He just acted off of instinct, closing his jaws around the sensitive part of his kill and holding on, biting down and trying to literally shake out any signs of life.

The wolf inside of him mumbled and humming happily in response to the blood that filled his mouth, the taste sharp and tangy and a little disgusting, but it was what came with tasting that blood that he enjoyed. It was knowing that it meant revenge, that it meant vengeance, that it meant the person responsible for leaving a child without a father had been finally removed from this world.

It felt like everything he had been waiting for and the adrenaline that had been surging through his veins in response to the fight was nothing in contrast to the sharp feeling of satisfaction that wove through him now.

He didn't stop shaking until the frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears stuttered to a halt, until the breaths that Charlie was trying to rasp out of his lungs faded away and until the neck in his jaws was slowly starting to come apart from the actual body. He flung the body away, spitting out the flesh that lingered in his mouth and baring his teeth in a feral sort of grin at the sight of Charlie's blank eyes. His head was hanging at an obscene angle, hardly even attached the remains of the neck any longer and he took some sick sort of satisfaction from the fact that Charlie's expression was contorted in nothing but fear and pain.

He threw his head back and howled, loud and triumphant, the sound echoing off the trees and reverberating around him. The howl was filled with challenge and satisfaction, with relief and with happiness. It was filled with finality, with the triumph of a long awaited kill. He knew when two more howls rose up in the distance, the melody loud and unabashed, he knew then that his message had been received. The responding howls contained Mona's blinding thanks and Callum's cautious happiness.

When his howl cut off, the woods seemed eerily quiet, the birds and the animals that normally inhabited the area having fled in response to the battle. If he listened he could still hear the sounds of fighting, but it was sparse now, dulled rather than the all-out pressure and volume that the battle had been before. He could hear whimpers as wolves picked themselves up and assessed the damage done to themselves and he could hear the ragged final breaths of some of the fallen. He couldn't tell what sounds belonged to what sides and he didn't particularly think it mattered.

He dragged a breath into his lungs, tasting the pain and the death on the back of his tongue and the part of him that would probably always be the quirky, hyperactive, _human_ Stiles wanted to retch and find something to wash his mouth out with. It was only when he reminded himself that that taste wasn't unfamiliar and that he wasn't that person anymore, that he didn't have those sorts of liberties to do things like that that had the tension literally sliding back out of his muscles.

Some part of him told him that it was a sad thing knowing that they'd annihilated an entire Pack for the sake of one wolf, but that had been their choice. It could have stopped with one death, but then he would have thought less of Mason and of Mason's Pack had they just handed Charlie over. That wasn't the way that a Pack was supposed to work, that wasn't the way hunters often thought they worked.

Pack as family. Pack was protective of its own even in the face of death, even when they knew that maybe that person wasn't worth protecting. They still fought, just like Stiles and his Pack would fight for any of their number.

He heard a scream followed by a broken sort of sob and then the air was filled with the sound of mournful howls rising up towards the sky. The weight of it settled deep into Stiles' bones, filled him with a dread that made him want to vomit. It was the weight and the magnitude of the howls that had him crashed back onto his knees in the dirt, it was the not knowing who had been killed, but the definite knowledge that someone had. However, it was the blinding pain that sliced through his brain that gave him the knowledge he hadn't been sure he wanted after all.

It was the knowledge of the loss that had him blacking out.


	24. Chapter 24

**I feel guilty for this not being up last night, because it should have been, but my internet cut out and I didn't have any way to upload it. So hopefully the extra few hours didn't make too much of a difference, either way sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy. . . as usual thank you so much for all the reviews, they keep me wanting to write and I can never be grateful enough. You guys are awesome as a fandom, seriously!**

When he came to he was still in the woods, his face pressed into the dirt and leaves on the ground, the scent of damp barely managing to permeate the overwhelming stench of blood and death. And now grief was intermingled with those scents, gradually layering on top of them until Stiles knew it would be all he could smell. He knew tears were leaking from the corner of his eyes and his entire body hurt with an echo of a pain he couldn't remember having been inflicted as he pushed himself up into a kneeling position.

A whine was already building low in his throat and the sound was cracked as it crept out, forcing its way past his lips. For a long moment he forget how to move and then his body was doing it for him, his muscles bunching and forcing him to bend over double, dropping back onto all fours as he gagged. Somewhere in the back of his mind, memories of another life pressed for his attention, the scene in the vet's clinic with Derek succumbing to the effects of wolfsbane. More tears forced their way out of the corners of his eyes, forging salty tracks down his pale cheeks, his skin smeared with blood and dirt like it was warpaint. He gagged again at the acrid taste filling his mouth before one of his arms wrapped around his stomach and he threw up.

The black blood splattered across the ground in front of him and he stared at it for a minute, bitterly wondering why Derek had never had this problem after he had killed Peter. Except no, _no_ he didn't want to think that. He didn't want to acknowledge that because this wasn't happening. He was going to get back to the others and find out that this was all a massive mistake. And that was what he told himself even though the thrum of power through his veins was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Mixed in with the grief and the pain coiling in his gut, layered on top of that feeling of weakness that came from being reduced to this figured retching on the ground, that power was slowly building.

It made him want to tip his head back and howl a sick sort of triumph up to the sky. It made him want to snap and snarl and bite. It made him want to build a Pack, but then the wolf inside of him whined and protested and reminded him that he had a Pack. He had a Pack and he could taste their grief on the back of his tongue, he could feel it descending over his thoughts as a grey sort of haze. And that was why when he did tip his head back, turning what was suddenly a muzzle up to the darkening sky, the howl was a mournful one. The sound was choked almost, desperate and he knew that it would sound to anyone listening like it had been punched out of him. Except, that was a quality shared by the howls that mingled with his own, not quite as strong, but desperate in their own way.

He counted them in their mind, pegging names to the voices. The loudest was Maggie and then Lee, both of their sounds bold and almost brash in their volume, but that only made the pain all the more evident. Weaving tentatively in between their voices was Isaac's howl, soft and respectful, but there nevertheless. The others picked up not even a heartbeat after the first three and Stiles wanted to whine at the same time as he howled when he realised he couldn't hear the voices of Tina, Jay or Lucas. He even thought Brady's was missing for a moment before he heard it, broken and cracked and obviously forced out of an injured throat, but there nonetheless.

There was a bitter hollowness to the sound of their howls though with the absence of Rory and Lucy. The vibrancy and life that had normally been injected into their song was gone. There was no less love, but the pain seemed to outweigh it in that moment.

The others kept howling even when his voice faltered and finally cut out and he started crawling before he could really remember how to move, but then he was flying. A part of his mind told him that this was Alpha form, that this was what it felt like, but everything else crushed those thoughts and feelings down before they even really had time to register. There was a desperation intensifying in his chest with every frantic thud of his heart and he was practically tripping over his own feet – paws now he realised – as he followed the scent of blood and heartbreak.

He burst into the clearing in a mess of dark fur and clouded eyes, melting back into his naked humanity just in time to be wrapped up in Maggie's tight embrace. Others latched on quickly, clinging to the comfort that came from Pack, that came from Alpha no matter how new the title. Flesh slick with blood and sweat slid together as each person scrambled to find some sort of purchase, their limbs all locking together in one tight, impossible knot. Whines built up around him until he couldn't work out which ones were his and which weren't. All he could do was wrap his arms around as many of the bodies crushed against him as possible. All he could do was cling back and offer them up anything he could to try and help ease the pain that was threatening to choke the air out of his lungs.

He only vaguely registered Maggie's head pushed up under his chin, or Jason's arms around his waist, he only just managed to recognise the fingers squeezing his to be Sax's or the face tucked into his shoulder and the tears splashing against the skin there to be Martin's. But he wouldn't realise until later that the blood coating his abdomen wasn't from any wound he had received, but rather had been smeared there by Isaac's tangled curls. He wouldn't know until they all tumbled away from each other much further on into the night, when the exhaustion had set in and the need to just _move_ became pressing that the lap cradling his head and the body hunched protectively over his face belonged to Derek. He wouldn't even begin to think about what that could mean for probably the longest time out of everything.

And it wouldn't be until the sun started to show itself above the horizon, until everything in the clearing was glowing an eerie shade of orange in the morning light, it wouldn't be until then that he'd lay eyes on Rory and Lucy. They were curled up together, immortalized in death in a way that was as befitting as it was horrendous and heart-wrenching. It had obviously been Lucy to die first, the wound on her throat unhealed and obviously the final blow. Rory was relatively untouched considering, his body curled protectively around Lucy's, his face buried into the side of her neck as he obviously sought out the last of her scent.

Stiles wasn't sure if he had ever put much faith in the tale that the stronger the bond between a mated pair, the more tragic the ending should one half be torn from the world. He thought it made perfect sense though now, when he looked back at how Lucy and Rory had always seemed like the perfect couple, the unbeatable ones that were always going to make it together no matter what. It had never been possible to imagine one without another, to imagine one half without its partner and even though it made him feel ill inside to think of losing both of them, he wasn't afraid to admit how fitting it was for them both to have remained together.

He'd never put much faith in the saying that a wolf without it's mate wouldn't be long in this world, but he did now. And it sort of made him want that at the same time as he could never imagine having that sort of devotion for another person. But then he supposed love like that wasn't something you imagined, it was just something that grew over time.

They buried them not far from where they lay, keeping them locked in their final, eternal embrace. They buried them beside their other fallen Pack mates and beside the two new werewolves that Derek had lost, beneath the grass of their final battleground. The rest of the bodies were burnt, but Stiles wasn't there for that part. None of his Pack were. Instead they lay again in a tangle of limbs and bodies, huddled close enough together for the heat to be stifling, each one of them latching on to some part of Stiles, seeking the heat of his flesh.

And he wouldn't say he was surprised that Derek wound his way in amongst them, smelling like dirt and sweat and faintly of death, but he also smelt like home and like Pack when he pulled Stiles against him and tucked Isaac under his other arm. And the rest of Stiles' Pack responded as though it was the most natural thing in the world, shifting and untangling slightly to accommodate Derek, to cling to him to before the knot of limbs tightened again.

He supposed that easy sort of acceptance was probably a message in its own way, it was probably telling Stiles something about this situation, was informing him of something that he hadn't yet picked up on. But he knew he could wonder about it later on, could dwell on all of the possibilities and panic even if it was fitting, but he'd leave that for when his brain was back online again. He'd leave that for when the pain wasn't so great and the wound wasn't so fresh, for when his Pack didn't clutch at him with clawed fingers and when whimpers and keening sounds and broken heartbeats weren't the only thing that he could hear.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that and he couldn't say if even a single one of them had actually managed to drift off at all. He didn't know if anyone felt any better, or if even they felt anything at all yet, but he supposed those were answers nobody would have the answers to for a long time.

He didn't even know who made the decision to move first, couldn't have said for the life of him, but suddenly they were all falling apart and breaking away from that frantic huddle and even though maybe he should have been the last to remain Stiles made no complaint when Derek lifted him from the ground. Derek didn't let go of him once, just stepped out of what remained of his clothes and moved them both into the shower and under the heavy spray of water. And when Stiles' feet finally hit the tiled floor and he reached out to wind his arms around Derek's middle, the wet slide of flesh wasn't in any way sexual. There was nothing but comfort in the way that Derek held him tight against his body, his fingers sliding through the back of Stiles' hair and his nails scratching comfortingly against his scalp.

Both of them watched the murky, pink-tinged water swirl down the drain.

He couldn't say that the pressure weighing down on his shoulders or the tightness in his chest lifted any, but feeling the sturdy reality of Derek's arms around him and watching all the events of the past twenty four hours – or now over that he supposed – wash away down the drain, it definitely helped. He had no idea why, but it helped.

It was only when the water turned cold and forced a shiver out of Stiles' body that Derek moved them back out, his skin never losing contact with Stiles' as he dried them off. "Please don't make me leave," he muttered, the first words he'd spoken since he'd woken up on the woodland floor broken and cracked, the desperation ringing in every word.

Derek's large hands held his face between them, his thumbs smoothing over Stiles' cheekbones and of all things, for some reason he couldn't help but focus on the water droplets clinging to Derek's eyelashes when he looked down at him. "I'm never letting you go again," Derek promised, the words so sincere and determined sounding that it broke something inside of Stiles and he crumpled visibly for the first time since this whole thing had begun.

He couldn't explain why it felt like a beginning when Derek caught him, curling up with him on the cold tiles and holding him as salty tears mixed in with shower water and broken sobs racked through his frame. He couldn't explain why it felt like a release when he suddenly sound himself gasping for breath, his heartbeat too loud in his ears and Derek's voice frantic and pained as he begged him to match his breaths, as he forced him to stamp down on the panic and drag much needed oxygen into his lungs. He didn't know why it was right that moment that he finally felt like something inside of him was stitching up and healing over, an invisible wound that not even he had been able to see. But it did.


	25. Chapter 25

In hindsight he thought he was probably a little sick, but the first thing that made him smile wasn't any of Derek's subtle coaxings to and it wasn't anything anyone purposefully did to try and cheer him up, but really he didn't think he should have been so surprised that it was Maggie who made him smile.

His Pack were still wandering around like they had lost a limb or some other significant part of them, their heads hung and their movements slow; but then Stiles actually thought that was a pretty good way of describing how they all felt. Accurate. It was like the universe had suddenly shifted, the axis tilting until it felt like everything under their feet was starting to crumble and fall away. It had only been a week now and most of them were still clinging to the rubble and trying to haul themselves back up to solid ground again.

It hadn't hit anyone harder than anyone else, but it seemed like it had. The difference was that Stiles knew different people had different ways of coping. Maggie reverted to sarcasm just like Sax and Brady blew off steam playfighting, Mona cried a lot and spent all of her time comforting Callum, whilst Lee became a permanent attachment at Isaac's side seeking the comfort only a mate could bring. Predictably Jason reverted to getting under everyone's feet and becoming generally as aggravating as possible, but people let it slide. Martin was like Stiles in that he'd just withdrawn inside of himself, watching the world from a distance and wondering when it was going to feel like it was turning again.

He knew that was understandable simply for the reason that they'd all lost and Alpha and their friends, but Martin had lost his sister in Lucy. It would take him longer to heal and they all understood that, which was why for the most part they left him to his own devices. The only person he really seemed to let near was Maggie, but then everyone let Maggie in.

"Does it get any easier?" Martin asked him after a week when they were alone in the kitchen, his blue eyes rimmed with red even though none of them had seen him cry since those first couple of days. They were sitting side by side at the kitchen island, the room empty save for them.

Stiles mimicked Martin's posture, staring down into his coffee cup like it was going to give him all the answers he could ever hope for. And he really wished it would. He wished he knew how to handle this, wished he knew what the right thing was to say. The only experience he had with loss was how it felt to lose his mum as a kid, but he knew that even if he'd had zero experience, Martin still would have been asking him that question. He was Alpha, it was his job to comfort and advise and honestly, it wasn't really anything different to what he'd been doing before.

He pressed close against Martin's side, Brady's scent wafting towards him from the slightly overlarge t-shirt that the other wolf was wearing. "In a way," he admitted, scratching his cheek, "But it's less about moving on and more about learning how to find a new way to live."

He couldn't help but think of Derek, of how Derek had lost everything and of how Derek even blamed himself for that fact a little bit. More than a little bit if he was being honest. Thinking back to how Derek had been back then he knew that the broodiness and the snappish attitude was just Derek's coping mechanism. He was someone who had lost everything and nothing was going to fill that hole, not completely, but it was possible to learn how to cover it up well enough to not feel the draft so badly.

Stiles had done the very same thing when he'd lost his mum. He'd learnt how to do things for himself. Had grown up and become a different person. He'd coped and lived a life completely different to what it would have been if he'd had a mother.

He didn't know if he'd said something right or not, whether he'd helped, but Martin leant into his side all the same, fingers curling around his forearm in an almost possessive gesture. They rested that way for a second and Stiles knew that it was more about scenting than anything else. With the losses they'd suffered they'd all been scenting more than usual, sometimes not even realising they'd done it.

Martin stood up as soon as his coffee cup was empty and Maggie didn't hesitate to take his place, breezing into the room like her feet weren't even touching the ground. She'd been waiting, he knew, to make her entrance. She'd been letting them have those moments. As no doubt had the rest of the Pack and Derek's. She was wearing on of Stiles' shirts and not much else if he was being honest although there may have been a pair of short shorts under their somewhere.

She sat down sideways on the stool next to him, looping one of her legs over his thigh and leaning in close so that her forehead rested against his collarbone. Her hair was a tangled mess and he snorted to keep it from going up his nose, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of satisfaction over the fact she hadn't brushed her hair yet. Maggie was all about appearances and if she didn't feel comfortable around people she had to look perfect. Even the last week while they've all been grieving, aside from being puffy eyed and having tear tracks down her cheeks, she was immaculate looking.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Derek slink into the room, heard him starting up the coffee machine. He turned his head to flash him a smile and didn't miss the way that Derek's eyes zeroed in on Maggie's shirt. Or his shirt if you wanted to be accurate.

There was a strange expression on Derek's face then and not for the first time Stiles wondered why the hell he had ever considered the Pack close when he was a teenager. Because if you compared them to his Pack now, they really weren't. It was sort of sad.

"You owe me a drink by the way," Maggie said casually, draining the rest of the luke warm coffee from his cup and pulling a face.

He frowned, wondering what he'd missed, "What?"

She rolled her eyes like he was the stupidest person on the planet and this interaction was so normal that something in Stiles' chest ached.

"You. Owe. Me. A. Drink." she said, emphasising the words and staring at him meaningfully. He could practically feel her thoughts bouncing off his brain as she tried to telepathically clue him in.

She knew exactly when the light bulb clicked on in his head by the slow smile that stretched its way across his lips. He grinned with maybe a little bit too much teeth, but he didn't care in the slightest. "You serious?" he asked her, lifting her leg off of his and turning so that his thighs bracketed her legs in. He laced his fingers through hers, squeezing slightly.

"Would I lie to you?" she asked with a casual flip of her hair, her expression devious and beautiful and making something inside of him spark back to life. And if they spent the next half an hour dancing around the kitchen island singing, "Ding dong, the witch is dead!" well they were more than entitled to their moments of madness. Even if Derek and the majority of both Packs looked at them like they were seriously considering having them institutionalised.

They'd explain later.

The next day Stiles woke up feeling lighter than he had done in a long time, which seemed stupid. His day only got better when Maggie wandered in to breakfast in one of Derek's shirts rather than anyone else's, Stiles didn't miss the smile that twitched the corner of Derek's mouth upwards for a second.


	26. Chapter 26

**So my excuse, writer's block. It's a bitch. This was meant to be up a while ago, but I kind of wanted it to something more than alright. Don't know how it turned out. . . thank you so much for all the reviews you guys have been leaving though, they honestly mean the world. **

**Oh and if anyone can come up with a name for a male character in an original thing I'm writing, I will give you my first born child, I'm serious. I'm shitty at names! If anyone can come up with something and PM me or leave it in a message, I'll do whatever you want!**

"I think Jason was wearing a pair of Scott's jeans," Derek said when he came back from the bathroom, crawling back into bed and lying down beside Stiles so that they were facing each other on their sides. They were close together, close enough that Stiles could feel the heat from Derek's body pressing against him and could work out that Derek had cleaned his teeth just from the taste of it on the air when he breathed in; and yet surprisingly they weren't touching. There was nothing but air in between them, not even centimetres, but they weren't touching.

It was like both of them were waiting for the other to instigate it. Both waiting for the other to make that first move.

There was a small crease in Derek's forehead where he was obviously trying not to frown, but even if that crease hadn't been there Stiles still would have been able to read the question in the other Alpha's eyes.

Normally Stiles wasn't the one who reached out to Derek. He'd admit that. It wasn't that he didn't have the confidence, because he honestly did, but he thought it had more to do with the fact that he was so used to holding himself back around Derek that he didn't know how to flip that switch. Except the thing was, Stiles had been waiting for far too long where Derek was concerned.

For just a moment – hardly even that – the confusion in Derek's eyes was replaced by surprise when Stiles closed that small distance and threaded his fingers through Derek's. And after that initial contact had been made, after the surprise had faded from Derek's expression, everything just moved fluidly and slid into place. It was like they were two puzzle pieces that even if they tried to deny it sometimes, they were always made to slot together.

Derek's free arm came around his back, his fingers splaying against his spine and pressing them impossibly closer as their legs tangled together. Stiles laid his free hand against Derek's chest, counting the heartbeats that thumped against the palm of his hand and claiming ownership of each one with a tiny in-time flex of his fingers against Derek's skin. He couldn't help but laugh at how un-Derek like the action was when the older man ducked in and bumped their noses together affectionately.

The skin around Derek's eyes crinkled as his lips threatening to twitch up into a small smile, but it was the expression that could only really be described as fond that had Stiles' breath hitching in his throat. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of realising that Derek was looking at him that way, that he was the only one Derek wanted to look at that way. And honestly, a part of him hoped that he never did get over it.

"What's up?" he asked with his face close enough to Derek's still that he had to be able to taste his words or something equally as intimate. He moved his hand from Derek's chest to instead brush his fingers along one of his cheekbones, curving his fingers around Derek's jaw and pushing them into his hair afterwards, effectively pinning their faces close together.

Derek huffed out a breath, the scent of mint toothpaste hitting him straight in the face. "Your Pack are wearing my Pack's clothes," he said eventually, in a low voice like he didn't actually want to have to be saying those words.

This time it was Stiles turn to frown, because he honestly hadn't thought Derek would have a problem with it. He'd thought Derek _liked_ it even. Because wearing someone else's clothes meant that you thought they were Pack and maybe Stiles had been completely misreading this situation, but he'd sort of been thinking they were melting into one Pack. He'd probably been wrong, but then it wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

"I can tell them to stop," he said lowly, having to wait a second so that he didn't sound depressed or pissy when he said that. He wasn't sure how well he pulled it off though.

Derek shook his head slightly, the movement jostling both of their heads and for just a second Stiles couldn't help the smile that tugged up the corner of his lips. If fell off just as quickly though when he remembered what conversation they were having.

"I don't want you to," Derek muttered and it almost sounded like a confession, "My. . . Stiles my own Pack don't wear each other's clothes." He stopped and his fingers flexed a little in Stiles'. "We aren't that close. I want to be, wish we were, but we're not," and he sounded so resigned when he said that that it sort of made Stiles want to forcibly jam Scott into one of Jackson's hoodies or something. "And. . . _God Stiles_," Derek sounded like he was choking on his own words, "_Do you have any idea what them doing that means?_"

And he did. Stiles did. He knew what it meant to him at the very least. He knew that having all of their scents mingling together, becoming one solid scent and feeling of _home _and _Pack_ meant everything. He knew that to him to meant to world, because it felt like everything was starting to click into place for him. To him it felt right and natural, even though it was something that was just starting out.

But he'd tell them all to stop if Derek so much as hinted at not wanting it to be so. He didn't care if it meant they had to pack their bags. He didn't care if it meant they were being knocked back about a mile when they'd gained so much ground towards becoming whatever the hell they were going to be. He'd do it, because even though he was done running from Derek, he wasn't about to force anything to happen either.

He squeezed Derek's fingers lightly, brushing a thumb over the back of Derek's hand and feeling like he wanted to shiver under the weight of Derek's gaze, even though the heat pressing against him from all sides should have been too much. It was like Derek was searching for something in his expression, like he thought Stiles was hiding away all the secrets to the universe.

Acting purely off impulse, Stiles ducked his head in and pressed a kiss to Derek's mouth, licking into the wet heat the instant Derek allowed him access. He pressed impossibly, incredibly closer, winding his fingers deeper into Derek's hair and moaning low in his throat as Derek's large hand pressed heavily against the bottom of his back. He kissed with everything he had in him, trying to pour all of the answers Derek was searching for in his expression into that one kiss, whilst at the same time trying to savour it enough in case it was going to be the last.

"Tell me what you think it means," Derek whispered, his lips brushing against Stiles' with every word.

He supposed he should have known that Derek would want the confirmation aloud. Because with what Kate had done to him, with how she'd screwed him over, Derek didn't like believing things, didn't like admitting to seeing them even if they were happening right in front of his eyes. He liked to hear the words, he liked to listen to the truth ringing through each syllable with the steady thrum of a heartbeat in his ears. Back when he'd been human – back when he hadn't really understood a thing despite thinking he knew it all – that hadn't seemed fair to Stiles. It hadn't been enough that Derek wouldn't take his word. He'd wanted Derek to trust him, had thought that Derek not accepting things that were so plain to see meant that there wasn't enough of anything to build on for a relationship.

He'd thought it meant that Derek didn't really trust him, because nine times out of ten he wouldn't accept things without them being spoken. It wasn't until he became a wolf that he started to understand that it was that one time out of all those ten that showed the most. He hadn't realised until then that the very fact that Derek was willing to trust Stiles without verbal verification _at all_ should have told him everything.

But then Stiles hadn't been that good at seeing what was right in front of him either. He thought he was better now. He knew he was.

"I don't know what you want me to think it means," he admitted, knowing that those words could ruin everything, but not finding himself able to say anything else. He didn't want to blurt right out and say that he thought it meant they were Pack now, because it would break them further if he was wrong.

Derek lifted their entwined fingers and brushed a line underneath Stiles' eye with his fingertip before pulling back just enough to press a kiss to Stiles' knuckles. "Does it mean you're going to stay?" he asked, the words sounding like they were being punched out of him, "I want it to mean you're going to stay."

It wasn't until much later that Stiles realised the broken nose that he heard came from him, but he supposed it didn't really matter too much, because Derek's mouth swallowed the sound for the most part. He untangled their fingers so that he could push both hands into Derek's dark hair, so that he could clutch at him with both hands as he smashed their mouths together, whispering, "Yes, yes, _oh fuck yes_," against the other Alpha's lips every time he pulled slightly for air.

He gasped out the words, the relief he was feeling a tangible thing in the air as Derek rolled them slightly so that he was pressing Stiles down into the mattress. Stiles let his legs fall open until Derek could settle between his thighs, his hands staying locked firmly in Derek's hair whilst the other male's were trying to be everywhere at once. Stiles felt like he was on fire, Derek's fingertips burning a path into his skin as they skating down over his ribs, curved around the side of his neck as Derek thumbed as his pulse point, clutched at the skin of his back so that Derek could pull them tighter together.

Derek kept saying his name, over and over again, breathing it out in response to Stiles' _yeses_ whenever their mouths parted long enough for it to be possible. And when the kiss finally broke and Derek's lips and tongue marked a scorching trail down the side of Stiles neck, marks being sucked into existence under rapt attention even if they faded seconds later, when that finally happened the bedroom was filled with the chanting, needy chorus of _Stiles Stiles Stiles. _

He was gripping Derek's hair tight enough that it probably had to be uncomfortable, but rather than complain Derek bit down teasingly on Stiles' nipple. Stiles arched up into the action at the same time as he pulled Derek closer by his hair, not even feeling like he had enough air in his lungs to properly moan.

Whatever the sound that escaped him though it seemed to amuse Derek, because he paused to look up at Stiles. His eyes were dark with lust, the pupils blown wide and the edges ringed ever so slightly with red. His hair was a mess and still scrunched up in Stiles' pale fingers, but it was that smile that really did Stiles in. Full of a dark sort of humour, but also so incredibly smug, it made Stiles feel like a teenager again, forever being slammed into walls by Derek.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered under his breath, oddly pleased with himself when Derek laughed, pressing his face into the flesh of Stiles' chest to try and muffle the sound, raising goose bumps on the smaller man's skin.

When he next opened his mouth he meant to call Derek a smug bastard or something along those lines, just for the hell of it, but the words moulded straight into a moan somewhere on the way out because Derek chose that moment to wrap his long fingers around Stiles' throbbing length. And Stiles was choking on air, arching upwards and not even thinking he could remember how to breathe. He had his eyes closed and his entire upper body bowing up off the sheets, when suddenly his spine snapped straight again, his body lighting on fire in response to the feeling of tight wet heat engulfing his cock.

Derek looked up at him through his lashes, still managing to look smug even with his lips stretched around Stiles' cock, looking obscene and red as they shone with what Stiles instinctively knew was more pre-come than spit.

He moaned and came pretty much from that sight alone, feeling like he'd taken a roundhouse kick to the gut with the force of the pleasure that hit him as Derek pressed down further, burying his nose in Stiles' pubes as he swallowed him right down to the base. Stiles' cock twitched and pulsed and he could feel Derek's throat constricting around his length as he swallowed down everything Stiles had to give; and honestly if anyone had asked him right then, he would have said that Derek was effectively sucking his brain out through his cock. That was if he could ever had remembered how to formulate actual words, because he was pretty sure he didn't have a chance in hell of being able to say anything remotely articulate right then.

Derek pulled off just moments before he became too sensitive, crawling up the length of Stiles' body and settling over him. Propped up on his elbows, he just stared down at Stiles, his mouth looking even redder and shinier than before and Stiles couldn't help but flick his tongue out to lap up that drop of white that clung to the corner of Derek's mouth. He moaned when Derek sucked on his tongue briefly, reaching his arms around and pressing them against Derek's spine the moment he remember how to actually move them.

"What you waiting for?" Stiles asked him when Derek did nothing more than loom over him, occasionally pressing kisses against Stiles' mouth, but nothing more.

"You," Derek replied bluntly, obviously not understanding that Stiles expected this to be the moment that Derek should be starting to fuck him.

He pressed his head back into the pillows and smiled. "You do know I'll recharge faster if you just get to it, right?" he asked, feeling like he'd misunderstood something massive when Derek ducked his head and hid his face in the side of Stiles' neck. And he swore he wasn't imagining the pink tinge to Derek's cheeks when he'd moved right then.

"Derek, are you blushing?" Stiles asked, squirming a little underneath him, trying to get another look at Derek's face. He hadn't even known the big bad wolf had been capable of blushing. "Oh my God you were so blushing? What did I do? What's wrong?"

He kept trying to think back to what the hell he'd said, but he didn't know what is was that had been wrong. He frowned a little. "Did I jump the gun?" he asked, the words coming out in one massive rush like they always did when he got nervous. Although, he hadn't had a case of verbal diarrhoea quite like this since he was a teenager. "You didn't mean that you wanted to fuck did you? When you said you were waiting for me that so wasn't what you mean? Fuck, Derek. This isn't me like pressuring you or anything. If you don't want to. . . I mean that's fine. Obviously I want to fuck, but I'm not going to like try and badger you into it if you don't want to. You know I'll wait, hell I've been waiting since I was sixteen, but I mean I shouldn't have just assumed. _Fuck_. Just let me up okay, I'll just go and we can like restart this conversation later or something."

He pushed at Derek's chest feebly, feeling his heart sink right down past the pit of his stomach to somewhere near his feet when Derek actually pulled back. He twisted a little so that he could slide out from underneath the other Alpha, only to have the breath rush back out of his lungs when Derek grabbed him and pinned him back into place.

His mouth kept opening and closing like he was trying to find the words to explain, but had no idea what he wanted to say. He was probably just trying to think of a nice way to let Stiles down about this and it sort of made Stiles not want to look. One thing he did know though, was in this situation any hope of his hard on coming back quickly had flown out the window. He was pretty sure his balls were receding out of the pure horror of how much he'd fucked this up.

Derek's mouth opened and closed and then he actually fucked _blushed_ again, the rush of colour to his cheeks honestly one of the most beautiful things that Stiles had ever seen even though he felt like he was about to vomit because of it.

And Derek could obviously sense the panic that was starting to boil up in Stiles' gut, because he finally managed to bring himself to look Stiles in the eye again as he reached down to slide his thumb over his cheekbone. "Stiles, that's not it," he said, sounding more nervous that Stiles could ever think he was capable of feeling, "That's not it at all." And _he was still blushing_. It was so fucking surreal that it made Stiles want to blurt out a hundred things at once, but by some fluke – and some definite biting down on his tongue – he managed to stay quiet.

"Stiles," Derek laughed out his name this time, sounding incredulous and Stiles wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "Of course I want to have sex," he said eventually, "_Of course_ I do, but. . ."

And Stiles had been waiting for that but. When Derek looked away from his eyes again, he shut his own. _Fuck_, he felt like he was about to be sick.

"_ButIkindofwantedyoutofuckme_."

"_What_?" his eyes flew open and he was about ninety nine per cent sure he'd heard that wrong. He had to have heard that wrong, because it sounded like. . . "_What_?"

The blush on Derek's cheeks darkened more, but he actually looked at Stiles this time when he admitted, "I kind of wanted you to fuck me actually." And damn if that wasn't one of the hottest things that Stiles had ever heard in his life. His mouth opened and then closed again, because he didn't even know if there were even words to justify a response to that statement.

He was pretty sure that even if he had attempted to say something right then, it wouldn't have made any sense. But then _fuck_, how was anyone supposed to be able to think straight with Derek Hale looking down at them with his expression so full of nervousness, that stupid, gorgeous fucking blush on his cheeks and his lips still bright red, swollen and shiny?

Stiles was good, but he wasn't that good.

**Okay so already I've had some reviews saying that they don't like seeing Derek being the submissive one. Which I get. So basically if you don't want to read that, skip the next chapter since it's the only time that's going to happen and then there will be a chapter where Derek fucks Stiles. I don't know, bottom!Derek is one of my kinks and I sort of wanted to put it in here. **


	27. Chapter 27

**If you don't like bottom!Derek, just skip this chapter but if him being submissive is the issue, I wouldn't exactly say that's how it goes. Either way it's basically just smut in this chapter, so if you skip it, you aren't missing anything out of the storyline of any importance.**

Derek whined low down in his throat when Stiles finally moved, when he reached up and curled his fingers into Derek's hair again, pulling him closer and smoothing along his heated cheeks with his thumbs like he could wipe away the blush that lingered there. He pressed a kiss to Derek's mouth, pressing his tongue against the seam of Derek's lips and knowing that the other Alpha could feel his nod.

And after that, it was like a fire was burning underneath Derek's skin with the way he moved. His actions were fast, jerky almost, as though he thought that Stiles was going to change his mind if he didn't move quickly enough. Derek's weight lifted off of him just long enough for him to reach into the bedside cabinet and then he was back, pressing a small bottle into Stiles' hand at the same time as his fingers tugged at the bottom of Stiles' hair as he reeled him in for another bruising kiss.

It was nothing but heat. The feel of Derek above him, the fingers of one hand curling around both of Stiles' wrists and pinning them above his head. The feeling of being pinned down underneath nothing but hard, warm muscle was indescribable. Stiles wouldn't lie and say that he had been celibate in the past years, because honestly he'd been far from it; but nothing had ever come close to the feeling of being with Derek. Sex with someone else was outmatched by just one of Derek's kisses, the pure need that filled the way that Derek clutched at him, the promises that were voiced with each swipe of his tongue.

Stiles was good at finding words for things, but not when it came to this. Not when it came to Derek. He didn't know how to explain that feeling that built in his chest when Derek straightened up above him, his thighs either side of Stiles' hips as he straddled him. It made him fell like a teenager again. Just the heat in Derek's gaze when he stared down at him. Stiles was used to people looking at him with lust in their expressions, but whereas normally he would have preened under the stare, the weight of Derek's gaze made him want to squirm. It made him feel like he was itching underneath his skin, like if he didn't move, if he didn't make Derek do something _fucking now_ then he was going to go insane.

In the past, sex had always been about him being the one in charge. Even whilst being the bottom, he was still the one calling the shots. But right then, like always, he was getting off on Derek's dominance. Even knowing that he was about to be the one doing the fucking, even being able to picture that blush on Derek's cheeks and the nervousness in his expression when Stiles closed his eyes, there was still no way that this situation was at all painting Derek to be the submissive one.

Just the way that he was pinning Stiles to the mattress was so completely Derek, it was so in character and so normal that Stiles could feel himself growing hard again. His recovery time shorter than it had been since adolescence. But then maybe that was the thing, even his body couldn't help but react just as it would had he still been sixteen when it was faced with Derek. He couldn't help it. He didn't want it to change.

"Just this once. Just now," Derek growled in between biting kisses across Stiles' collarbone and neck, red blooming against his creamy skin only to fade almost immediately, "Just this time. Just the first time. Want to smell like you, want you to make me smell like your Pack, want to be yours."

And _fuck_ he hadn't thought about the reasons why Derek would want this. But of course, _of course_ it had to do with scent. He could only imagine what Derek would smell like after they did this. There was always something different in the scent that lingered on someone's skin after they'd been fucked. It was different from when you were the one who was doing the fucking. It went deeper, was more primal almost, more possessive.

And oh my God Stiles couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop squirming at the thought of Derek smelling like him, of smelling like _his_ after this. It felt like every single nerve ending in his body was on fire and he knew that was all the wolf. He knew that this had nothing to do with the human part of him. The physical reaction he was having to his thoughts stemmed straight from his wolf's possessiveness, from its cries of mate.

"After this I'm going to make you mine," Derek growled right in his ear, sucking on the skin underneath it, seeming desperate to try and make a mark stick and Stiles almost wished he could turn his healing off to make that happen. He wanted to be marked as Derek's, he wanted to show the world, to show the entire Pack. "Going to fucking _knot you_, going to fill you up and make you scream."

Stiles shivered and moaned, choking on air as Derek straightened up, the click of the cap of a bottle being opened and then he was watching Derek fuck himself on his own fingers. He was watching his back arch and his hips grind down against Stiles' as he worked himself open. And Stiles wanted to see, he wanted to push Derek off of him so that he could see, so that he could watch Derek open himself up properly, join in even. Except he couldn't tear his eyes away from Derek's face. He couldn't stop staring at his expression, at the blissed out look, at the way the blue of his eyes was almost completely swallowed up by the red.

The colour was practically pulsating and Stiles licked his lips at the sight of Derek's fangs poking out of his mouth. He lurched upwards, grabbing Derek by the back of the neck and crushing their mouths together. Derek made a sound of surprise, his fangs cutting someone's mouth with the sheer brutality and recklessness of the kiss, but Stiles had no clue who it was that was bleeding. They healed too quick for them to even really feel it, but the taste was still there, bursting into life on Stiles' taste buds and making him moan even though he was all too aware of how fucked up that probably was.

Derek's had let go of his wrists at some point, but he couldn't remember when. He only became aware of it when Derek's hands on his shoulders pressed him back down into the mattress again and he would have protested, would have strained against the action if Derek hadn't been bending down with him. And honestly, he couldn't think much past the low, needy sound Derek made when he pulled his fingers out of himself, could hardly even register the slick feeling of Derek smearing lube on his chest.

Then he was choking. Then he forgot how to breathe.

Then all he could think was: _fuck. Tight. Hot. Derek. Fuck. Derek. Fuck. Too tight. Fuck. _And it seemed like his sole purpose in life was making sure he didn't end this whole this before it had really ever begun. There was no way of describing how it felt to have Derek pressing down onto him, to have Derek squeezing his dick with nothing but slick, barely tolerable, fucking amazing heat.

He finally managed to drag in a breath when he bottomed out and he would have loved to say that he contributed somehow to the experience, but really he didn't do much other than lie there. He couldn't do much other than lie there, concentrating hard on not coming as Derek rose up and down on his cock.

The movements of Derek's hips were lazy almost, but Stiles knew that if he sped up at all then Stiles was a gonner. It was all over if Derek so much as squeezed his muscles and he tried to convey that somehow through curling his fingers around Derek's thighs, digging human nails into his flesh. He didn't know what he was supposed to think of the wicked grin he got in return.

There was something incredibly open about the expression on Derek's face. It was blissful, happy even and Stiles hadn't seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. That expression was enough to make him forget that Derek had ever frowned once in his life. It was secret and private and just for him and Stiles bared his teeth and snarled at the thought of anyone else getting to see Derek like this.

Derek made a stuttered, choking noise when Stiles wrapped his fingers around his cock, jerking it just twice and twisting ever so slightly on the upstroke. And that was all it took to make Derek come. Honestly, he didn't know why he'd thought Derek would be any better at coping with the sensations than he was. He didn't know why he thought Derek wouldn't be right there at that edge with him. It was the feeling of Derek's internal muscles spasming around his cock that had him plunging down over that ledge.

It was like their roles had been reversed, because whereas Stiles' release was silent, his head tipped back and his mouth open like he was screaming, Derek's howl was thunderous and almost triumphant. He dug his nails into Stiles' abs and to his credit, Stiles didn't so much as flinch when they punctured his skin, the claws pushing through past human nails.

Derek pitched face down on the bed next to Stiles, his face pressed into the pillows and Stiles seriously suspected that right then he was feeling like his entire body was one huge elastic band. Stiles knew the feeling and he knew just from the way that Derek was sprawled that nothing was going to move him for a while.

Stiles rolled over and nestled into Derek's side, flicking his tongue out to taste the sheen of sweat that clung to Derek's skin at the base of his neck. "Just so you know, I'm expecting that knot when you wake up big guy," he said, tapping Derek's ass for emphasis and laughing when Derek did nothing more than huff and throw an arm around his waist, pulling him in closer to his side.

He smiled against Derek's shoulder. "Funny how you always said I was a pain in the ass," he muttered, "Didn't know you wanted to take that quite so literally, Sourwolf." He told himself that the only reason Derek didn't ordain to reply to that one was because he was asleep.


	28. Chapter 28

Derek woke up first and couldn't help but smile at the sight of Stiles. The younger Alpha was curled up next to him, his face snuffling into Derek's shoulder and his mouth open in a small 'o'. Looking at him like that, he looked far too young and far too innocent to be an Alpha. He looked too much so to even be a werewolf. Seeing Stiles asleep was like all the previous years had never happened, it reminded Derek of the moments when he'd stopped by to check on Stiles after an incident, creeping into Stiles' room to check on him. Stiles was almost always awake during those visits, but there were the occasional times when he'd just seemed to crash and was curled up asleep when Derek found him.

He kept his head turned towards Stiles, knowing that if he was awake he'd call Derek a creeper or something for watching him sleep. But he can't help it. He really can't. Stiles has a gentle sort of look about his features, but Derek has never quite been able to place what it is that makes him look so _sweet_. Sometimes he thinks it's the slant of Stiles' cheekbones, other times he's just about positive that it has to be how wide those brown eyes are, maybe even the thick lashes surrounding them. The majority of the time though his thoughts get stuck on that mouth. That stupid, quirky cupid bow's mouth.

And of course when he started thinking about it, his thoughts get a whole lot less innocent.

He used to drive himself mad with thoughts of that mouth, probably only hurting himself all the more with each accompanying thought that said, _you can never have this_. He thought of how those lips would feel stretched around his cock. He thought of what they would look like red and swollen, kiss swollen rather and red because Derek had been biting at them. It had always been kissing that had gotten Derek off faster than anything when fantasising about Stiles. He didn't know why, he thought maybe it was because there was just something about Stiles' mouth, but probably more because he'd always thought that maybe just a kiss would be something he could get. Something he could allow himself eventually.

He used to dream up how he could get away with kissing Stiles. If he could make it happen in a stupid game of spin the bottle he sometimes caught the teenagers playing – but then of course he would have had to involve himself in those games and he'd always made it clear he was against those. He thought he could at Christmas maybe, that he could let Lydia put up a sprig of mistletoe and maybe sneak a kiss in with Stiles. Because of course there would be no way that Lydia or Allison would let anyone get away with standing underneath mistletoe and not kissing. Except, that kiss would be just a peck, it would be too short. He just knew it would. It wouldn't be enough and would only leave him wanting more.

Because that was the other thing he used to tell himself. He used to tell himself that one kiss with Stiles would be enough to last him a lifetime. He probably should have always known he'd be wrong, that he was lying to himself about that one too.

There is nothing quite like kissing Stiles. It isn't anything like Derek imagined it – and like a teenage girl he imagined it so many different ways – but then he was glad for that because it was even better. Stiles' skin had always felt a little cold to him, even now he was a werewolf and should have run hot; but in comparison Stiles' mouth was burning. Practically scalding.

His lips were soft and pliant under Derek's, moulding to fit against his perfectly, but Stiles' tongue was hot and fierce and domineering. It was always pushing against Derek's, challenging his and taking control in a way that Derek didn't think Stiles would do in a kiss. When Derek bit him, Stiles bit right back. When Derek pushed, Stiles gave more, came at him in a new way that left Derek reeling. But at the same time he could be soft and sweet and lazy, letting Derek take the ropes. And yes, he always got that sense that Stiles was _letting _him lead. It was baffling.

But that wasn't even half the reason.

More than how it felt, there was the taste. Amplified by his werewolf senses, the kiss was different in a way that a human could never appreciate. Each one left a taste in Derek's mouth that was a combination of mint and normally chocolate and then whatever the hell Stiles had recently eaten. But slamming all of that right down was just that pure taste of Stiles. It clung to Derek's tastebuds, lingering there for long after the kiss ended and it was the most addictive thing that Derek had ever tasted.

And then there was how responsive Stiles was. The small moans he let out when Derek sucked on his tongue. The way his fingers would wind into Derek's hair or trace his tattoo through the back of his shirt, following the spirals blindly and letting Derek know he'd memorised them long ago. It's the way Stiles feels pressed against him, the way that Stiles holds his face sometimes and the way that he looks at Derek afterwards, breathless and almost dopey-looking, but so damn fucking perfect it's unfair.

There would never have been any chance of Derek letting Stiles go if that had happened when they were teenagers. If he'd looked at Derek like that even once, he would have never let Stiles go. And sometimes he wished that he'd just sucked it up and done it, because then they would have had so many years by now, but he also isn't sure if Stiles being able to kiss like that is something that's been inbuilt from the beginning or if it's from practice over the years. Perfecting the technique.

Then again, Derek doesn't want to think about that. Because then he has to think about the fact he gave up all of Stiles firsts when he could have had them. He could have been Stiles first kiss, could have had his virginity and been the first one Stiles wrapped his lips around the cock of. But he gave that up! He shied away and handed it over to someone else, to someone who wouldn't have appreciated it like Derek would have done.

He doesn't like thinking about that though, so he just tells himself that having these firsts just between them now are enough. And if that isn't, well then knowing that they have the future ahead of them is definitely plenty. Other people didn't get that, but Derek is going to have it even if it kills him.

He wasn't giving up Stiles again. Wasn't going to let him go. Not without a fight at least.

"Creeper," Stiles breathed out when those wide doe-like eyes fluttered open to see Derek staring at him. The blush that rose on his cheeks though, that spread down his neck slightly belied his words, which was all Derek needed to be happy. "You could be Edward Cullen, you know that right?" he asked, his voice sleepy and lazy-sounding, but it was always good to know that nothing would ever completely change Stiles' lack of filter and his need to talk, "Except that would make me Bella in this situation and I kind of would rather not be."

"Why not?" Derek asked, smirking and pressing closer. Or rather reaching out and dragging Stiles closer via an arm thrown over his waist. He left it there afterwards, tracing patterns on Stiles' lower back, straying slowly down towards the swell of his ass.

He wondered how long it would take Stiles to notice.

Stiles snorted, the sound loud in the quiet of the bedroom, indignant.

"Maybe because I'm a hell of a lot smarter for one," he replied, his expression daring Derek to argue with that, "And hello dude, _I'm not a chick_."

Derek wondered whether it was because Stiles was still half asleep or if he was genuinely just that oblivious that was the reason the other werewolf didn't notice at all when Derek reached an arm behind him to grab the lube off the bedside table. He set it behind Stiles and then noticed that he was staring at his mouth, which probably had more to do with the reason for Stiles being oblivious.

He smirked again, raising an eyebrow at Stiles in a silent form of communication. One Stiles obviously understood if the way he rolled his eyes and huffed was any indication, but nevertheless he was the one to close the distance, pressing his mouth to Derek's. The angle was a little awkward because by this point Stiles was almost completely on his front, half-lying on Derek and craning his neck to cover the space between their faces. Derek helped by worming an arm underneath Stiles and pulling him ever closer, using the kiss as an easy distraction so that he could slick his fingers up with lube behind Stiles' back.

He almost wanted to laugh – sort of did – at the way Stiles jumped when he slid slippery fingers between Stiles' cheeks. He swallowed Stiles' low moan as Derek traced the entrance to his body, just teasing, applying just enough pressure to drive the younger Alpha insane. He splayed his other hand flat against the bottom of Stiles back, turning him more onto his side so that it was a less awkward angle.

Stiles wound his own arms around Derek's neck, pushing his fingers into the bottom of Derek's hair. His cock was a hard bar of heat against Derek's stomach and he could feel Stiles thrusting slightly against the ridges of his abs, trying to strain for friction at the same time as not moving too far away from Derek's fingers. It made Derek smile into the ongoing kiss before skimming his lips down across Stiles' jaw.

He knew that he was probably giving his mate beard burn as rubbed their cheeks together briefly, but werewolf healing solved the problem. It was weird though, because back when he'd first thought about how all of this would play out, he'd always imagined how Stiles would look with beard burn, he'd always imagined that he'd suck hickey's up along the pale column of Stiles' throat. It disappointed him in a way that the marks would never stick now.

"_Derek_," Stiles gasped out right into his ear when he finally eased the tip of his finger just inside of Stiles' hole. It was almost enough to make him come right then, feeling how tight it was, how warm. He just knew that it was going to be his undoing.

Strangely enough, he was okay with that. More than okay in fact.

"_Derek_," his voice was practically a keen when Derek pressed his finger in further. Stiles arched against him and tried to press back all at the same time. It almost made Derek want to put him out of his misery and reach between them, to stroke Stiles' cock just lazily, just once or twice to give him to friction he wanted. He didn't of course, because he didn't want this to end that quickly.

He wanted to make this last forever even if he knew that he was bound to tumble over that cliff as soon as he pushed into Stiles. He just prayed he'd make it in to the hilt, prayed he could knot Stiles before it was all over, because _fuck_ how he wanted to knot him.

There weren't even words for how much he wanted to. Nobody's vocabulary was that good.

By the time he started working the second finger in alongside the first, Stiles had gone from swearing sporadically in amongst gasps of Derek's name to full on pointless and aimless babbling. About three quarters of what he was saying made zero sense, but Derek sort of liked that he could make Stiles lose control like that. Especially given how this Stiles always seemed in control, was always collected. Derek liked to be the one to make him come undone.

And then right in the middle of it he blurted: "_Fuck Derek, you're knot, you're going to knot me right, you have to. I want you do, so don't you dare end it before then. I'm a wolf I can take it. Did you know nobody's ever knotted me before? Kind of one of my fantasies though. Fuck. . . fuck. . . fuck Derek there!"_

Derek pulled back just a little, stilling his fingers in Stiles' ass and just staring at him. He didn't know if he'd heard that right. "Stiles?" he asked and had to smile at the way that Stiles looked up at him and blinked dazedly and completely out of it. He was looking at Derek in that way that he loved and Derek's breath hitched in his throat on the way out.

"Hmmm?"

Unable to resist, Derek pressed another kiss to Stiles lips, making it quick and short, but still sending electricity crackling through Derek's system, making him want to gasp out. "What did you just say?" he asked, knowing already that Stiles would probably have no clue.

"Which bit?" Stiles asked innocently, looking a little embarrassed even though the flush on his skin now was for a completely different reason.

"The bit about you never being knotted before?" Derek asked and it felt like the words were getting caught on the way out. He wondered if Stiles could hear the desperate edge to them, if he could understand why that was there.

A small frown puckered the skin in between Stiles' brows and he met Derek's eyes only to look away immediately. "I haven't," he admitted after a minute, "Mason always wanted to and stuff, so did other people, but I never let them."

Derek didn't know if it was his place, but he wanted to ask. He _had_ to ask. "Why not?"

This time the colour that rose to Stiles' cheeks was definitely a blush and Derek was struck again by how _young_ that made Stiles look. "I didn't want them to," he mumbled, voice quiet and withdrawn, like he was expecting a rebuttal somewhere here, "I wanted it to be you, I didn't let them because I wanted it to be you."

It was obvious from the startled look on his face and the equally surprised look that burst out of Stiles' lips that he hadn't expected a reaction like Derek had. Derek pressed his slick fingers further into Stiles, hitting his prostate dead on and making him come undone right as he slotted their mouths together in possibly their fiercest kiss yet.

But more than that, it was _possessive_. It was _happy_. Because this meant Derek got a first. This meant he got to have at least one part of Stiles nobody else had had before. A part nobody else but Derek would _ever_ have. Of course, he'd have to explain that to Stiles later because he was too busy at the moment being overjoyed.

"For the record I've never knotted anyone either," he pulled back to say though, he felt like they should be even. He felt like Stiles should understand on some level how important this was.

Judging by the look in Stiles' eyes, he hadn't thought that would be the case.

"What?" he asked, "Not even Kate?"

Derek bristled at the sound of her name, but he snorted as well. "I wasn't supposed to let her know I was a werewolf then remember?" he reminded him, rolling his eyes, "Idiot."

Stiles huffed, wriggling closer, "You know there's something inherently wrong with you calling me an idiot when you're fingers are buried in my ass."

"Shut up Stiles," he replied for lack of anything better to say, cutting off Stiles' noise of outrage with the perfect combination of a kiss and a third finger working into his ass.

Stiles moaned loud enough to let the entire house know exactly what they were doing, but then Derek wanted them to know. He wanted the whole world to know that he was claiming his mate. _Finally_ he might add.

He rolled Stiles over onto his back, keeping one hand under the small of his back to keep his ass up in the air slightly as he squirmed down the bed a little. He didn't take his eyes away from Stiles' face as he knelt between Stiles' bent legs and ducked in. He sucked at the heat of Stiles cock, dipping his tongue into the slit and smiling when Stiles almost jack-knifed off the mattress. Fingers threaded into his hair and gripped tight as Derek rolled one and then both of Stiles' balls around in his mouth, pressing his nose into the junction between Stiles' thigh and groin and breathing in the pure scent of Stiles. The scent of mate.

Stiles' skin was shining now with a slight sheen of sweat and Derek couldn't resist swiping his tongue up that small line of hair leading to Stiles' bellybutton. He bit at the solid flesh, sucking up a mark and then watching it regretfully disappear. It made him wish he'd marked Stiles back when he had had the chance, but then he hadn't had the right like he had now, so maybe that made up for it.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of sex, already had been, but it was more so now.

Derek lapped at Stiles' cock for a minute, gathering the pre-cum leaking out and holding it on his tongue. He leant back up the length of Stiles' body, pulling the hand out from behind his back but letting the fingers in his ass remain. He kissed Stiles, letting him taste himself, swallowing that glorious combination of pre-cum and saliva as well as Stiles' moan.

"_Fuuuuuck_," Stiles gasped out, tugging at his hair so that they could look at each other, "Get in me, you need to get in me."

And Derek could have cracked a joke about how he _technically_ already was, but jokes were more Stiles' thing so he didn't. He did smirk at the needy whine Stiles let out when Derek removed his fingers and he knew how empty Stiles much have felt, knew how on edge he was. Derek could completely sympathise because right then his skin felt like it was on fire, every casual sweep of Stiles' hands down his torso only adding fuel and making him burn all the hotter. He was so hard it hurt and honestly he was pretty sure his brain cells were being burned away with every second they waited.

He moved Stiles' thighs, lifting them up and glad that Stiles caught on quickly and hooked his ankles around Derek's back. He held himself up with one arm as he guided himself to Stiles' entrance.

Both of them hissed as the head pushed inside, Derek at the tightness and Stiles at the intrusion.

"Just do it," Stiles gasped out, wiggling down at the same time as he arched up off the bed. He looked beautiful, his mouth fallen open and his pupil blown wide, the flush worked down onto his chest and his grown out hair a mess over his head.

Derek nodded numbly and dropped to his forearms, holding Stiles to him as he slammed home. He bit into the side of Stiles' neck to stop himself from shouting out, squeezing his eyes tight shut and scrambling for any shreds of control he could fine. He'd been right about it being near impossible not to come as soon as he bottomed out. And it didn't help that he could feel Stiles' internal muscles fluttering around him, tightening and spasming and it took him a moment until the white haze around his brain faded to realise that Stiles was coming between them.

Or rather had just finished.

"You _have_ to be kidding me," he groaned out, shifting the tiniest bit and choking on air.

Stiles squirmed on Derek's cock, no doubt starting to feel the knot that was swelling at the base. "Just move and give me a minute," Stiles muttered, looking only slightly embarrassed, "I have the recovery time of a teenager, just pretend that never happened."

Derek laughed low in his throat and knew Stiles understood that was what it was meant to be even if it did come out a little strangled. Then he moved and it was the closest thing to perfection Derek was ever going to get.

Stiles was tight and wet with the lube, the heat inside of him burning all traces of ice on Derek's soul away. It lit him up from the inside, coiling tight around him just as Stiles' limbs were, his arms working up around Derek's neck and his heels digging into the bottom of Derek's back. And even though he'd already come once, Stiles met him thrust for thrust, pushing down to meet each snap of Derek's hips and mouthing at the side of his neck. He kept alternating between biting kisses and just pressing his face there and breathing and all of it made goosebumps rise along Derek's arms.

It was like he was on a new plane of existence entirely, like he would have been seeing everything in a new way if his eyes hadn't been screwed tightly shut. He pulled his head out of the pillow next to Stiles' face and pressed his forehead against Stiles', opening his eyes and smiling into the brown ones that stared up at him.

Stiles panted into his mouth, the short raspy breaths telling Derek' exactly how far he was gone.

Fingernails were raked down his back, making him bite back a snarl that was really more of a moan and he slammed his hips forwards into Stiles' harder in perfect retribution. Words were tumbling out of Stiles' mouth constantly, a litany of _harder, faster, Derek, deeper, faster, harder, fuck, fuck, shit Derek, oh my god!_ And Derek did everything he asked, or at least went with the general consensus to save himself from looking like a person demented trying to do everything at once. He pulled back from Stiles and sat down on his heels. Stiles' legs dropped until they were wrapped lower around his waist and he was basically sitting in Derek's lap now, but he was controlling nothing.

All Stiles seemed to be able to do was throw his head back and gasp as Derek lifted him up and slammed him down in time to the thrusts Derek was pumping upwards. He bared his throat to Derek in a way he had done no one else as far as Derek could see and even if it was unintentional it didn't matter. It was still there.

Derek bent in, sucking mark after mark onto Stiles' neck, marring the pale column only to have it heal up and allow him to start all over again. He knew from the way that Stiles' moans had turned high pitched and breathy, desperate even that he was hitting Stiles' prostate with almost every thrust in this position, at this angle. So he kept doing it. He wanted to see Stiles come undone. He wanted to make the brand new Alpha shatter in his arms just so that Derek could be the one to put him all back together again. Derek wanted to cement himself in between all the pieces of Stiles, permanent and immovable. He wanted to be Stiles' foundations and the roof over his head and everything else in between.

Stiles moaned, loud and unabashedly when Derek's knot swelled further and started to push upwards with Derek's thrusts, seeking entrance to the warmth of Stiles' body. And then Stiles' moans and curses turned into the most perfect compilation of, "_Do it, do it, do it Derek, fuck do it."_ So he did, slamming up at the same time as he pulled Stiles down hard onto his cock, feeling his knot stretch Stiles further open, feeling it start to work its way inside as Stiles mouth opened in a silent, startled scream.

Derek ran his hands up Stiles' back, feeling the bumps of his spine and the rise and fall of his chest with every ragged intake of breath. He slid his fingers into Stiles' hair, the locks longer than they had ever been when this had happened in Derek's imagination and somehow that made it better, it made it more real in a way that Derek couldn't explain.

He pulled Stiles' face down to his, pressing their lips together as he circled his hips and pressed them slightly upwards, moving as much as the knot that locked them together would allow. And he didn't even know until Stiles answered that he'd started muttering his own words and praises, had started mumbling, "_Thank you, thank you, oh my god, so perfect, thank you, I love you,"_ against Stiles' mouth in between kisses. He tried to chase Stiles' lips when he pulled back slightly, but the gentle pull of his hair stopped him and he blinked with bleary eyes up at Stiles, watching the way that the younger man's face split with an easy, blindly happy smile.

"You don't have a fucking clue what you just said," he muttered back, pressing their sweaty foreheads together, "But I love you too."

And just like that Derek was coming and it seemed to have crept up on him for some reason. It surprised him, like after knotting Stiles he had forgotten that part even was left to happen. He was coming harder and longer than he ever could remember doing before, filling Stiles up and none of it being able to escape and he didn't know what it was that set Stiles off, but his dick was jumping between them, thin ribbons of white streaking up to join the mess already on Stiles' chest.

Derek didn't know why he chuckled low under his breath as soon as he got his breath back, but he stroked his fingers over the red-tinted skin of Stiles' cheeks, lowering them back down so that he was pressing Stiles into the mattress and pressing lazy kisses against Stiles' face.

"Sooo," Stiles said a few minutes later, when they'd stopped panting and Derek could actually distinguish who's heart was who's that was pounding between them, "That was knotting huh?"

Derek rolled his eyes, but huffed out a laugh against the side of Stiles' neck, licking a stripe up the side and then nipping over the pulse point. "Shut up Stiles," he muttered again, already having decided that was his default response by this point.

Stiles laughed, throwing his head back into the pillow and one of his hands stroking up and down Derek back at the same time as the other ducked under Derek's arm and started trying to push Derek's fringe up and out of his eyes. It didn't really work, but Derek appreciated the attempt. "What?" Stiles asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes and then looking up at Derek with wide eyes like he was the most innocent thing in the world, "I was just going to say I liked it and we should really do this more often."

He snorted, "Like I couldn't tell that from you coming _twice_."

He yelped slightly, his hips jerking forwards in a short, aborted thrust that had them both gasping at the sensitivity and the pull when Stiles slapped his ass. Whatever retort Stiles had come up with was evidently forgotten at the reminder that they were fitted together. Or maybe he just purposefully abandoned it in favour of stroking his thumbs across Derek's cheeks and pressing just the slightest of kisses to the corner of Derek's mouth, sweet and loving and fitting with the mood that was settling in the air around them.

Derek just smiled and rolled them onto their sides so that there was no risk of cutting off Stiles' breathing. Stiles tangled their legs together, keeping one hitched up around Derek waist due to the knot. Their foreheads pressed back against one another's, noses brushing as a hand came up to cradle one side of each other's faces and Derek knew the tangle of limbs and the position was sappy and uncharacteristic for him, but it was Stiles.

And Stiles had been screwing up the way he did everything from the very beginning after all.


	29. Chapter 29

They'd been locked together for a little over half an hour when Isaac knocked on the door. Stiles wouldn't have thought it was possible considering the world class ache in his ass where Derek's knot was still fastened inside of him, but he was actually starting to doze off. They'd rearranged so that he was using Derek as a pillow, scratching patterns out against his skin and watching the faint red lines fade almost immediately.

Werewolf healing never failed to amaze him, even though it would never fail to piss him off that he wouldn't ever be able to mark Derek. Hickeys were out of the question for the both of them, which really shouldn't have annoyed him as much as it did. He supposed actually though that the aching in his ass would have been more of a burn if it hadn't been for being a werewolf. He could actually feel his body healing itself around the intrusion, the process slowed down whenever one of them squirmed – and if anybody thought Stiles could stay still in any situation, including when he felt what could have been a pool ball up his ass, then they had another thing coming.

It was Derek who had the peace of mind to pull the sheets up over them when Isaac knocked, saving the pup from an eyeful when he walked in a minute later. His eyes were downcast and there was a flush on his cheeks that betrayed the fact he was embarrassed even if Stiles hadn't been able to smell it. There was also a hickey on his neck that had to be recent if it was still there and his scent was almost completely mixed in with Lee's by this point.

It was something that made Stiles smile even though he sort of wanted to die right there. It felt like he was corrupting Isaac's mind or something having him walk in on this. Even if he knew that was a stupid thing to think, Isaac would always be a pup to him.

"Chris Argent's outside at the end of the drive," Isaac muttered, looking everywhere but them, his face getting redder and redder the longer he stood there, "He wants to speak to Stiles and because of the treaty we can't technically do anything to make him leave."

A treaty that Stiles didn't know the terms or the small print of, but that wasn't the point. Before he'd left, they hadn't actually had an official treaty in place with the Argents.

"Tell him we're a bit. . . _stuck_ right now," Stiles said, feeling his own cheeks heat up and hating himself for the wording even if it had been partly intentional, "I'll be there in a bit."

Honestly, it was Argent's own fault for not calling ahead, so if he had to wait, so be it. That was his problem. Isaac nodded quickly and practically bolted out of the room.

Derek choked on a laugh as soon as the door shut. "_Seriously_?" he asked, those eyebrows of his voicing a whole lot more than he ever would out loud.

Stiles just shrugged, settling back down on Derek's chest, tucking his head under the other Alpha's chin. "Well we could always go out like this, but I don't really think it would be appropriate," he muttered and he was almost positive he could hear Isaac make a strangled noise somewhere in the house. Or maybe it had been Scott.

"I have a better idea," Derek replied, pushing his hands under Stiles' thighs. Somehow – Stiles blamed stupid Derek Alpha Strength – he managed to stand up, wrapping Stiles' legs around him and managing to keep the knot from pulling too much. Although, Stiles really wasn't going to complain at the pulling, because even though it ached, the knot sent a shot of pleasure through his system every time it shifted. Derek walked through into the en-suite bathroom, his hands underneath Stiles' ass, even though the grip was more fondling than supporting.

Again, Stiles wasn't one to complain. Especially not when Derek's long fingers slipped down between his cheeks to slide a finger around where they were joined. Not attempting to breach – which would have been impossible – just testing. Just feeling his handy work.

It was a strange experience washing whilst they were still joined together. Even though he could feel the knot softening slightly, neither of them made any move to see if Derek could pull out. Derek smirked at him as he arched against the wall, legs locked still around Derek's waist and the knot pulling just a little as he lathered up his hair. In the combined space and pressed so closely together, Stiles couldn't have said for the life of him at times which hands belonged to which person. And it wasn't even sexual, or at least it was about as un-sexual as it possibly could be whilst they were still _technically_ having sex.

Each touch, each slide of soapy skin was more intimate than almost anything they had done before was. It was comforting and more real than Stiles would have known how to cope with had it been anyone else. He'd been in a shower with someone before, fucked and been fucked up against a shower wall. He'd held Jason up and awkwardly washed dirt out of wounds to help him heal whilst the other wolf had been unconscious. He'd been in showers in locker rooms with other people, had stood with Maggie just on the other side of the glass having a conversation. He could think of over twenty different scenarios, but there wasn't anything quite like having someone look at him with the sheer level of care that Derek was doing so with.

It was difficult to explain.

And he thought the only way he could really make any sense of it was if he thought of the rest of his life as one big mess. The mess of his mother's death, the chaos of his teenage years. The hectic tornado of activity that was the Pack. The harsh adrenaline-fueled moments of fights. The fast-paced panic-filled days of his return to Beacon Hills. All of it had been a mess, whether good or bad, it was all a mess. His entire life. And yet that moment right there seemed uncharacteristically neat. No stress, no pressure, just Derek and Stiles, hot water and soap.

Not even the looming potential mess that Chris Argent could bring to the fold could ruin it. That moment just seemed like it was cut out a picture-perfect magazine in comparison to the rest of Stiles' life. To everything he could imagine in his future as well. It felt stolen, like he'd cheated somehow in order to be granted this.

But nothing could have made him give it up.

"Stop thinking so hard," Derek muttered against the shell of his ear, his fingers brushing lightly down Stiles' side as he sucked the lobe into his mouth just briefly. Not even giving Stiles enough time to build up a moan, instead letting him stutter on the beginnings of the sound in his throat. It made Stiles wish he had the energy to scowl or just do _something_ in any sort of retribution.

"You'd probably be dead by now if I didn't overthink things," he pointed out, leaning his head back against the tiles and sliding his fingers into the back of Derek's wet hair so that he could look his mate in the face.

It seemed weird to think that word. Or at least to actually think it and have an aspect of confidence to the thought. It wasn't just a pipe dream anymore. It was reality. And in a way it didn't seem like it should be real, that it should be right. Because sure, Derek could be broody and temperamental and he wasn't all that good at actually using his words, but he was still one of the most beautiful things that Stiles had ever seen. He blamed the eyebrows, or maybe the cheekbones, but then he supposed it probably helped that Derek just had the sort of eyes that anyone could get lost in. He was broken and all hard edges, but it just made people want to find out how to open him up.

It had made Stiles want to find out how to open him up, but more than that, it had made Stiles want to learn how to show everyone that softer side to Derek. The person he'd been before the fire. Before Kate Argent had broken him practically beyond repair.

Allison had said to him once that Derek was, "_Ruined not broken_," and that you couldn't hope to fix what would be impossible to mend. He'd disagreed then and he disagreed now. Derek wasn't ruined. Not completely. Sure, Kate had messed him up in a lot of ways, many of which would never be able to be reversed. But Stiles wasn't looking to put all the pieces back together in the same way, he'd just always wanted to make them fit as best as possible. He'd work on filling in the cracks for as long as it took, in any way that it took.

God knew anyway, Stiles was just as broken as Derek was in a lot of respects. He maybe hadn't lost on the same scale as Derek had done and he didn't carry around the same volume of guilt that Derek probably always would do, but it was still there. That little bit had always been real enough for him to be unable to cope with. So maybe that was the way in which they were perfect for each other, in the fact that they were both broken and ruined and maybe sometimes it took swapping a few fragments of the whole in order to get it back to completion.

Stiles would love to tell people the secret, but honestly, even in the good moments he knew that they would never be completely there. He didn't even try to fool himself.

"Probably," Derek agreed, grinning slow and lazy. Those perfect lips stretching wide into a smile that had a few too many teeth. But then that was just Derek, vicious even when he was being tender.

"Definitely," Stiles countered, pressing an almost chaste kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth.

His feet dropped to the floor a minute or so later, it could have been ten, it could have been just two, Stiles honestly couldn't have said. All he knew was that the water turned colder and the knot inside of him slipped free. Both of the groaned lowly as Derek slipped out of him and Stiles shuddered for a moment in Derek's arms, feeling incomplete and empty after all that time of being so completely filled.

He could smell the salty tang in the air of Derek's release as it ran down his thighs, mingling with the water and swirling down the plughole. He almost mourned the loss of it, probably would have done had Derek not moved in quickly and started massaging the purest form of his scent into Stiles' skin with precise swipes and circles of his fingers. It didn't even occur to Stiles for a second to complain, because he'd been waiting for far too long to wear Derek's scent. To be allowed to wear Derek's scent and he planned on never smelling like anything else ever again as far as he was concerned.

They both jumped slightly and stopped what they were doing when a fist connected with the door. "Stop with the kinky shit and hurry the fuck up," Maggie called through the door, "Jason's about two minutes away from going over to chat to that hunter and that ain't gonna turn out well for anybody."

Stiles groaned as Derek shut off the water, but he waved for him to stop when he moved for the door handle with nothing but a towel slung low around his waist – an image Stiles was quite happy to have burned into his memory forever thank you very much. "Nice try Mags, but get the fuck out of our room," he shouted back through the door.

He heard her huff out a breath and just knew she was pouting even though he couldn't see her. "I was just checking you were actually getting out," she replied and he could have pinpointed that as a blatant lie even without the help of her heartbeat ticking in his ears.

"Liar," he didn't even bother raising his voice, "You just want to see Derek's naked ass."

He heard her moving away from the door even as she laughed, "Can you really blame me?" And no, in all honesty he really couldn't blame her for wanting to sneak a look at any part of Derek. And he was quite willing to share a lot of things with Maggie, would give her his life even, but Derek's ass was definitely not on the list of things he was willing to hand over to her. Or to anyone. Ever. It'd have to be over his dead body and even then he'd come back as a ghost to haunt whoever it was that'd killed him.

_Oh yes, he was just that serious!_

Derek just did nothing more than roll his eyes, press a kiss to Stiles' temple and didn't even look mildly surprised when Stiles jerked the towel off as he walked away. Impending meeting with a hunter or not, Stiles wasn't missing out on that view walking away from him.

**Was going to put the meeting up tonight as well, but I did say on Tumblr that this update would be done if everything went to plan today and it didn't, my brother got taken into hospital. So I have a bit of an excuse there. But it's 11:48 and I've updated, so I fulfilled my promise! Thank you to everyone who is sticking with me and sorry for the wait. Hate me if you like, but just remember that if you do, you won't find out what happens. . . just saying. . . **


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